
Book_^_L75__ 



GLIMPSES 



OF 



THE SPIRIT-LAND 



ADDRESSES, SONNETS, AND,OTHER POEMS. 



BY 



Samuel H. Lloyd 



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PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION, 



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NEW-YORK : 

JOHN A. GRAY & GREEN, PRINTERS, l5 & i8 JACOB STREET. 

1867. 






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Glimpses of the Spirit-Land. page 

No. I.— The Threshold, 9 

No. II. — Re-Union, --- 11 

No. III. — Realities, -_------- 12 

No. IV. — Visions, --------- 13 

No. V. — The Dreamer, -----,--14 

No. VI.— Change, 13 

No. VII.— The Spirit's Welcome, 16 

No. VIII. — Heavenly Joy, 17 

No. IX.— Land of Bliss, 18 

Lines to Rev. Frederic T. Gray, on his Departure for the Atlantic 

States, ---.---.--. 20 

Faith, Hope, and Charity, - - - - - - - -21 

The Oak and Vine, ---- 22 

To Some Weeds that are Growing on the Eaves of a House opposite 

my Window, 23 

Distrustfulness, - - - - -- - - - - -24 

To Little Lizzie, ----- 24 

To Jenny Lind, - -----25 

A Blessing for the Children, 26 

Sonnet, 27 



6 Index, 

PAGE 

A Tableau. 

. - - - - 27 

Morning, ------ 

----- 27 

Noon, ------- 

^ . 28 

Evening, - - - 

Night, ""^ 

Sonnets. 

I.— The Welcome, ^^ 

II.— The Question, ^° 

III —The Wish, ^^ 

IV.— The Apology, ^ " " ^^ 

- - - - 32 
V. — Glimpses, 

VI.— The Shrine, ^^ 

VII.— Repose, - - - 33 

VIII.— Absence, ^^ 

IX.— Love Universal, ^^ 

X.— The Farewell, ^^ 

36 

XI.— Explanation, - - - " 

A Fireman's Address, " " ^^ 

Temperance Address, 

The Oak and Vine, 

„ . 52 

Reverie, - - - - 

In a Valley Sweet and Lowly, ---■""' ^-^ 

54 

Isabel, 

, - - - - 56 

The Heart and its Angel, - - " " 

Jenny Lind, - - ' ' ' 

What Hattie may be supposed to Say on the Eve of her Marriage ! 58 

59 

Lines, - - - 

60 

The Silver Lining, 

- 63 
A Factory Village at Night, - - - " 

64 
Spring and Childhood, 

65 
My Childhood's Home, 



Index. 7 

PAGE 

Tlie Poet, 68 

God Speed the Plow ! ----.. ...5^ 

To Dora, --------_._ ^j 

Love vs. Wealth, .-----...,^2 

Aspirations, ------.-___ 72 

The Cross, ------------ ^.^ 

All are Here, ----- 7^ 

Epitaph, -jz^ 

Lines, --- --_^.--_. ^5 

Lebanon Springs, -.------..78 

The Angel Hand, ---------- ^g 

The Inner Mansion, --.-------go 

A Paradox, ----- 82 

A Tribute to the Memory of my Friend Sydney Southworth, who 

died at Sea on board the Brig Gulnare, bound to California, - 83 

My Spirit Bride, .----....-85 

To Wachusett. (In Winter,) 87 

Rosalie, ------------88 

Musings, ----------- gc 

Lines, -------92 

Willie to his Bird, 94 

The Buttercup, -----------96 

Love and Wedlock, -.----._. ^^ 

My Valentine, ------ ^8 

A Song, - 99 

The Gold Diggers, ---------- gg 

To Wachusett, loi 

Lines, ------.-.--. 103 

The Bird's Nest, 104 

A Rainy Night, - - io5 

Be Patient, 105 



g Index. 

f>AGE 

Lines to my Little Brothers, --------107 

Good Night, '°^ 

Beneath the Cloud, " " ^°9 

Above the Clouds, - - "° 

My Brother, "^ 

The Search, "^ 

Art and Toil, "3 

The Inner Life, ^^7 

Hymn, "^ 

Temperance Hymn, ^^9 

Baptismal Hymn, --- 120 

Sunday-School Hymn, ^-' 

Hymns, written for and sung at the funeral of Rev. William H. 

Kinsley, September 9th, 1851, 122,123 

Hymn, "4 

Hymn, "5 

Hymn, - - - ' ^ ... - 126 

Happy New Year, 127 

The Bachelor, ^34 

Impromptu— To Isly Wife, i35 

My Walk, ^3^ 

Our Departed Hero, - . - - 138 

Night, - 140 

The Child's Waking Hymn, 142 

Resurgam, '44 




POEMS. 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 



NO. I. — THE THRESHOLD. 

WHAT mists are these that hang before my eye, 
And hide me from the faces that I love ? 
What form is this -that to my side draws nigh, 

And hovers o'er me hke some phantom dove ? 
My recollection reels, and through my brain 

My wandering thoughts like orphaned children 
creep, 
While round my form I hear a sound like rain, 
For so the angels' steps appear in sleep. 

What light is this that gilds this opening morn ? 

What sweet-robed train now waits around my side ? 
And why this waiting for the day's young dawn ? 

This seeming waiting for a soul's sweet bride ? 
A form I see from out this blessed throng. 

As now she pillows me upon her breast, 



lO GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 

My Guardian One, whose harp shall tune my song, 
Who loving me attends me to my rest. 

And this is Death, that once so much I feared, 

Disrobing of the mantle that I wore ; 
And these the forms that all my life have cheered, 

Now bearing me where all of death is o'er. 
With sweet discourse they chain my listening ear. 

And tell me now of this sweet land I see. 
Till into pearls they crystallize each tear, 

And all I feel is one vast melody. 



But yet, O earth ! again I turn to thee. 

As now, with clearer vision, I behold 
Each loving form that still doth cling to me. 

Whose aching hearts leave all their griefs untold. 
I go ; for, like the autumn leaves the wind 

Has gently loosed upon each bending bough, 
Have griefs around this heart of mine entwined 

And loosed the hold my life has felt till now. 



Yet not in sorrowing my spirit greets 

The forms that bear me through these clouds away, 
But as the chrysahs its summons meets. 

O'er flowering fields to greet the new-born day ; 
I go, but in that Land, to us so near, 

As near the flower is to its budding stem, 
I too will linger round my loved ones here. 

And round their couch in triumph wait for them. 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. \\ 



NO. II. — RE-UNIOX. 



HOW often loosed the silver cord we find, 
And at its fount the golden bov/1 is broken 
But Love is stronger than the cords that bind 
Our fragile forms — outhves each earthly token. 



So while around this tufted grass we stand, 
And for our loss our bleeding hearts repine, 

We see afar the Amaranthine Land, 

The vine-clad hills beyond this flowing Rhine. 



And then we see — what Doubt forbade, but Thought 
Made sure — that there each loving form we'll find, 

And in that Land, as heaven's own prophets taught. 
We all shall meet, no wanderer left behind. 



And as the dew-drops mingle on the rose. 
And stars are sweetly grouped, our hearts explain, 

How in that Land, the longing soul well knows, 
We'll mingle there on that far-reaching plain ; 



In rhythmic groups our rhythmic hearts be formed 
To drink the music of the higher spheres, 

And all our joys by Harmonies conformed, 

Make real what now we dimly see through tears. 



12 GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND, 



I 



NO. III. — REALITIES. 

HAVE such thoughts so beautiful and sweet 



I fain embrace as night each nesthng star, 
That come as does the morn, with dewy feet. 

And heralding the joy that breaks afar ; 
And thoughts, to me so simply true and real — 

As real as dew-drops are unto the leaf, 
That I discourse until my fond Ideal 

Is wedded to the form of my Behef. 

The Spirit- Land then stands before my eyes 

Not as a city we in fancy make, 
But as a city 'neath the moonlight lies 

With shadows seen reposing on the lake ; 
And I can clearly see the silver spray 

That sparlvles when the boatman hfts his oar, 
As towards the Palace of Immortal Day 

Through silent waves he phes his passage o'er. 

And then a sound comes floating to my ears 

Like rustling leaves the playful winds had fanned, 
Until the Gates I've seen through falhng tears, 

I clearly see with Heaven's own rainbow spanned ; 
And beings here that to my dreams belong, 

With waving palms attend each welcome band. 
And with their starry harps recite in song 

The harmonies that fill the Spirit- Land : 

And there are seen those blooming fields and rills 
That fringe the margin of that peaceful Bay, 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. I3 

The life the same that here our bosoms thrills 
Still finds us pilgrims on our upper way ; 

And I rejoice so real to find it all, 

As finds the chrysahs the fields and trees, 

That Doubt was but the shadow of the wall, 
My spirit now through its own starhght sees. 



NO. IV. — VISIONS. 

T HAVE had dreams, should I attempt to speak 
-*■ In vain my lips would now essay to tell. 
As would the stars should they begin to teach 
The loveliness that in their bosoms dwell. 

When sleep has come, and 'neath her de^y wings 
The angels find me folded on her breast, 

My soul before them hke a tablet spread, 

With visions then have so my heart impressed, 

That I retain the pictured scenes within, 
And all the raptures that my spirit knew, 

As lovers' hearts the imaged face retain. 
Or as in leaves the flowers retain their dew. 

And thus I muse on visions past I've had, 
The scenes that nightly bind me in their spell, 

Until the life I spend within in sleep. 
Becomes more real than that in which we dwell. 



14 GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 



XO. V. — THE DREAMER. 

TN this vast temple of the soul, 

-■- What fairy glimpses here have we, 

When closed are all the outer doors 

From which the outer world we see ; 
And as our spirits then may roam 

From land to land, and star to star, 
And bring the Spirit- Land so near, 

We once had thought so dimly far. 

What truth and beauty then impress 

The spirit's likeness on the face, 
When as the starlight meets the star 

The Spirit- Land and we embrace \ 
And thus are mirrored on the cheek 

The shadows of that world of love, 
As through the soul the figures pass — 

The imaged forms of those above. 

The eyes are closed, as night lets down 

Her curtains from the dewy skies ; 
But as the night reveals the stars 

The day had hidden from our eyes. 
So, when all outer gates are closed, 

And sculptured sleep our lips may seal, 
Then round our forms the Land is seen, 

That now these outer doors conceal. 

And as the notes in music rise, 

And in successive scales must chime. 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 

So next this world that round us lies 
The Spirit- Land takes up the rhyme ; 

And all things here that now we have, 
Are types of those we there shall see, 

As note to note, and scale to scale, 
Here typify the Harmony. 



NO VI. — CHANGE. 

"1 T 7HY should we mourn that changes come, 
^ ^ When 'neath the cold and shrouded snow, 
The grass and flowers may shelter find, 
And in the darkness bud and grow ? 

Why should we mourn that clouds are formed 

And o'er our drooping spirits fly ? 
The law that forms the clouds expands 

The bow and brings unclouded sky. 



Our hopes may fall Hke leaves away, 
And swiftly pass each winged hour ; 

But leaves ne'er fall until the fruit 
Is formed within the bursting flower. 



Then change is Angel of the Soul, 

That keeps all things from swift decay, 

Through which the crystal here is formed 
And life anew may spring alway. 



l6 GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 

Thus when upon these thoughts I muse, 
That once awoke my brooding fears, 

I see how Beauty's matchless soul 
In all with cheerful robes appears. 

I see the worm upon the ground 
With golden tints expand its wing ; 

What, then, as more than worm I am. 
Unto my soul shall changes bring ? 



NO. VII. — THE spirit's WELCOME. 

WELCOME, sweet dweller from the earth. 
Sweet welcome to these gates of Day ! 
Thy soul has now its second birth. 
And like a bird may soar away. 

Welcome ! the night of grief is o'er, 
Of pain and strife and wasting care ; 

We here outlive each scar we bore. 
And none have burdens here to bear. 

For Thought and Play and Work and Love, 

Go gayly walking hand in hand. 
And in these fields of light above 

They here go rhyming through the Land. 

All sin and discord here must end, 
And none exist except in dreams. 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. \J 

For here with God our spirits blend, 
And fountains purify their streams. 

No night is here to mantle o'er, 

Like some dark bird of brooding wing ; 

For joy reigns here for evermore, 
And hopes forever blossoming. 



'Tis true, we look above and see 
The Spheres as they encircling rise, 

But then we know in harmony 
Each field in sweet progression lies. 



Of discontent we cherish none 
As here we cast a glance afar, 

But 'neath the splendors of our Sun 
We journey on from star to star. 



NO. VIII.— HEAVENLY JOY. 

T "TOW full of ceaseless life the world ! 
^ ^ Its mountains, fields, and streams. 
And every changing scene within 

That through each spirit gleams. 
The bird goes flying through the air. 

The waves go rushing from the shore, 
So thought goes bounding through the soul, 

Where it shall ne'er be silenced more. 



l8 GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAXD. 

The Joys of Heaven must ceaseless be, 

Not listless as the sand 
Some wave had borne across the sea 

And piled upon the land ; 
Nor do they cloy or fade away, 

But to the soul return again, 
As skies receive the streamlet's gift 

To pour it back in dew and rain. 

f 

And what is Joy ? The boundless stream 

That slakes each thirsting soul, 
From Love's sweet fount of being fed. 

By Wisdom taught to roll ; 
Whose fount in vain we seek to reach, 

Whose source we vainly seek to know, 
But by whose ever living banks 

The pleasures deepen as we go. 



NO. IX. — LAND OF BLISS. 

OLAND of Bliss ! my heart now turns 
With longing hopes to thee, 
As long the blossoms for the spring 

The sunbeams strive to free ; 
O stream of Time ! on whose sweet wave, 

Like flowers upon thy breast, 
My thoughts thy flowing tide doth bend 
Towards that sweet Land of rest. 

O Land of Fruit, that hangs so rich 
Upon thy bending trees ! 



GLIMPSES OF THE SPIRIT-LAND. 

Oh ! when shall I beneath thy shade 
Inhale the swelhng breeze ? 

And with these rapturous eyes behold 
The white-robed angel band, 

And drink the flowing landscape in — 
The sweet and dewy land ? 

And with me too, the beings loved, 

Find all of sorrow o'er — 
When shall these tearful partings cease 

On life's retreating shore ? 
And by those living streams may pluck 

The amaranth and rose. 
And drink the nectar from the streams 

Where deathless water flows ? 



O Land of BHss ! my heart now turns 

With longing hopes to thee. 
As long the blossoms for the spring 

The sunbeams strive to free ; 
O stream of Time ! on whose sweet wave, 

Like flowers upon thy breast, 

My thoughts thy flowing tide doth bend 

Towards that sweet Land of rest. 
1850. 



20 LINES. 



LINES 



TO REV. FREDERIC T. GRAY, ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR 
THE ATLANTIC STATES. 

I. 

THOU faithful soldier of the cross, farewell ! 
Our pastor kind, devoted friend and guide, 
Our smitten hearts with grateful feehngs swell, 

And from our eyes gush forth the tearful tide 
As to our ears thy parting words are breathed 

From lips on which the dews of Hermon fell ; 
Which to our souls the Fathers love bequeathed. 

And joyed the Master's matchless Hfe to tell. 
Farewell, thou Sower of the Word ! Hke seeds 

Upon the ground, thy words within our hearts 
We gently fold ; the Sun of Righteousness succeeds, 

And fruit and verdure to our lives imparts ; 
And thus draw near the Harvest Day that bring 
The fruits that blossoni for an endless spring. 



But ere thy bark is parted from the land 

And ploughs once more the free and stainless sea, 
We linger round to take thy parting hand. 

And see ! the children pressing near to thee ! 
We do not come with priceless gems, nor gold, 

Nor alabaster box whose perfumes yield 
A costly gift, but grateful hearts unfold 

The fervent wish that God shall be thy shield. 



FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. 21 

Then fare thee well ! Flow gently, waves that bear 
Thy friendly bark, just parted from the shore ; 

To home, and flock, and friends, and to His care 
Who tames the sea, we leave thee evermore ; 

To Him who safely holds within his hand 

The raging sea and wide extended land. 

San Francisco, 1854. 



FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. 



Written after seeing a painting by Adele Kendt, now belonging to 
John Hooper, Esq., of Boston, 



LOVED sisters of the soul, I love ye more 
Now that upon this canvas sheet I see 
Ye sweetly grouped, and fain would I implore 

(So real ye seem) one blended smile from ye ! 
It is no fiction this — no fancied work of Art ; 

From earliest childhood, in its fairest dream, 
And in transfigured hours, in inmost heart 

I knew ye all ! so vivid now ye seem. 
A7id know ye 7ne ? Ah ! greater this than all 

The flatteries of kings, of state and court. 
In this your rainbowed throne and crystal hall 

H^ve you my humble name with gold inwrought ? 
Or, if my name is traced but faintly there. 
By loving ye, may I your converse share ? 



2 2 THE OAK A.YI? VINE. 



II. 



So sweet the thought now steals upon my brain, 

If loving ye would draw me closer there, 
I'd breathe my life away, as clouds in rain. 

When flowers come in answer to their prayer ! 
But greater still the thought we learn from ye, 

Ye are the cherub ones we nurse within — 
Our angel guests, the forms that now we see. 

To toll the death of Doubt, of Agony, and Sin. 
If now so fair, how fairer far ye'll be, 

When Truth is welcomed as the peaceful dove, 
When Faith and Hope in Wisdom's soul we'll see, 

And dew-eyed Charity is lost in Love ? 
Sweet scene ! but should we fail to make it real, 
In vain we idly gaze on this ideal. 
X851. 



THE OAK AND VINE. 

HOW feeble and how frail the works of all ! 
Man rears his stately pyramids in pride. 
But 'neath the peltings of the storm they fall 

And moulder away by the pilgrim's side. 
I'm weak I know. I've leaned upon the world, 

A broken reed it surely proved to me ; 
And when from peaceful scenes I'm rudely hurled. 

It never gives my heart true sympathy. 
And yet I can not feel to stand alone 

As does the oak that ne'er for mercy pleads ; 



TO SOME WEEDS. 

To lean as does the vine I'm always prone — 

Though rich in buds and leaves, a prop it needs, 
And so without thy arms to be my stay, 
O God ! I'll droop and perish by the way. 
1843. 



23 



TO SOME WEEDS 

THAT ARE GROWING ON THE EAVES OF A HOUSE 
OPPOSITE MY WINDOW. 

TTOW often in the sultry noonday hours, 

•*■ ^ When scorching rays had tinged each tender leaf, 

With burning lips still pleading for relief 
To some sweet cloud that sheds its tears in showers, 
I've gazed on thee, and felt how much thy life 

Resembled mine. I'm parched and pining too ; 

And like a flower that thirsts for rain and dew. 
My soul is weary of the dust and strife. 
And yet as from thy roots sweet moisture springs 

Of rains and dews thou long hast treasured there, 

And drank in beauty from the morning air. 
Which to thy drooping leaves new verdure brings. 
So Mem'ry on the heart in dew distills, 
And pours her balm through all her secret rills. 
1848. 



24 



TO LITTLE LIZZIE. 



DISTRUSTFULNESS. 



HOW oft we fear and falter by the way, 
While fancy paints with clouds the future sky, 
Till mortals think they have on earth no stay, 

And none to wipe the tear from sorrow's eye. 
But fear not, timid soul, for God will give 

Thee strength thy cross to bear, to tread the vale. 
He gives e'en birds a wintry robe t' outlive 

Each blast of winter's drear and chilHng gale ; 
Or else directs their flight to summer fields, 

Whose warmer rays regale each passing breeze — 
Where summer bland in purest friendship yields 

A safe retreat among her woodland trees ; 
And so He gives us strength our cross to bear. 
And watches o'er us with a Father's care. 
1846. 



TO LITTLE LIZZIE. 

I MET thee, child, amidst a fairy scene, 
A princely hall* festooned with leaves and flowers. 
And tables spread, the fruit of many hours. 
And caught a ghmpse of thee, behind the screen 
Of waving leaves that fanned thy thoughtful brow. 
And as the wise men sought the child of old. 
And brought their myrrh and urns of virgin gold, 
So does my heart consume its incense now. 

♦Faneuil Hall, Boston. 



TO JENNY LIND. 25 

Behold the loved, the amaranthine child, 

Whose soul now glimmers through her eyes hke 

light 
The stars do shed between the hds of night, 
And pour their beauty o'er each vale and wild. 
The sweet prophetic child ! How like a vine 
Our loving hearts rpund thine do now entwine ! 
1849. 



TO JENNY LIND. 

Written after seeing her from her window waving her handkerchief to 
the multitude below. 

T HAVE not heard thee carol on the air 

-■- One note, sweet Nightingale, within thy bower, 

And yet I know thy soul is passing fair, 

And sweet as cells embosomed in the flower. 
I have but seen thee, bending o'er thy nest 

To greet the multitude entranced by thee, 
With love and fervor mingled in each breast. 

Moved by thy name and sweet simphcity. 
'Tis not to Art alone they breathe a name 

They speak so soft as to a hly's breast ; 
Thou'rt greater than the gift bestowed by fame, 

Beyond its power to give and frail behest ; 
But 'tis to thee, whose soul within keeps time 
To all that's rich in song^and sweet in rhyme. 
1350. 



26 SONN'ET, 



A BLESSING FOR THE CHILDREN. 

A HAPPY year ! the year that now has birth, 
iVhose sky so calm, so dear, it seems to say, 
All things bless us, and e'en the blooming earth 

Reflects the blessing on our hearts to-day. 
A happy year to you, to each Jfnd all. 

Ye youthful pilgrims in this favored land ! 
But 'tis not mine from heaven this gift to call, 

Tis yours alone to seek the angel hand. 
There is a path conducting to the goal. 

And duty to the willing heart is light ; 
This path pursued, and to your wishful souls 

The changing year shall bring no coming blight ; 
New stars shall come your future sky to cheer, 
And each shall prove to you a happy year. 

Jan. I, 1858. 



SONNET. 

AGAIN my eyes behold the cottage fair 
Once to my cheerful voice and footsteps known, 
Where oft its joys and sweets I used to share. 

To which my heart had long in exile flown. 
Now busy thoughts come crowding to my brain, 

As through the past my soul recalls each scene. 
The sloping roof, where patt'ring came the rain, 

The village church behind its leafy screen ; 
And how with merry heart it met my sight 

When absence drove me from its sweets away. 



A TABLEAU. 2/ 

The lights that glimmered through the dusky night, 

That from its window sent their cheering ray. 
Alas ! these scenes invite no more my breast ; 
The bird has flown, and empty is the nest ! 
1847. 



A TABLEAU. 

MORNING. 

'T^HE new-born light comes floating o'er the hill, 

•^ Kissing the orange leaves upon its way, 
And kindly entering at my window sill, 

Illumes my cabin with its feeble ray. 
But not with joy I ope my slumb'ring eyes. 

As flowers their leaves to greet the coming morn. 
That, drinking in the sunshine from the skies, 

Feel all the pleasures of a life new-born. 
I wake, but with the dawn my restless heart 

Feels no_ sweet dew or sunshine ling'ring there. 
But griefs that cause each dawning hope to start. 

And thoughts of outrage, wrong, and wasting care. 
O God ! when from thy gates th^ light appears. 
Should it wake such bleeding hopes and fears ? 



NOON. 

^ I ^HE noonday hour has come : beneath this tree 
-^ I sit me down to eat my simple meal ; 
The winds come floating by, so wild and free. 

They whisper thoughts that through my bosom steal ; 



28 A TABLEAU, 

The stream is free that courses through the vales, 

The waves whose music breaks upon our shore, 
The clouds that spread their wings Hke crimson 
sails — 

All whisper thoughts that die in me no more ! 
Why should I thus be doomed to wear a chain ? 

To bare my back beneath the driver's whip ? 
To pour my sweat for him like drops of rain, 

And ne'er have power to ope my burning lip ? 
Is this the boon for those who till the soil. 
To reap such harvests for their willing toil ? 



EVENING. 



T 



HE golden sun has sunk all silently. 
And dewy eve comes gliding to my side, 
As by I pass each fragrant bush and tree. 

Beneath whose leaves our little cabins hide. 
With weary limbs yet beating heart I go, 

To meet my sweet and loved ones at my door, 
Which smiling Hope has circled with her bow. 

And where my love has gathered all her store. 
And yet why o'er my soul this horror steals ? 

Why from my pent-up heart this death-like sigh ? 
The thought that e'er this bursting heart conceals, 

Whene'er my home is pictured in my eye ; 
The fear that hangs a cloud before my sight. 
The wrong that shrouds my soul in folds of night. 



SONNETS. 29 



NIGHT. 



NO sound now steals upon the breathless air, 
Save that of leaves that fan the sleeping^flowers ; 
Our own north star ne'er seemed so bright and fair, 

As through these vines it seeks these hearts of ours. 
What hopes and fears now crowd my aching brain. 

As by our sleepless breasts our children lie ? 
To make us free does night now pour her strain. 

For which the stars are beck'ning in the sky ? 
We snatched our babes, so young and fair they seemed 

Like sweet-breathed blossoms cHnging to our breast, 
While sweetly in its blue the north star beamed, 

As forth we went to seek a northern nest. 
O God ! what cloud is rolling at our back ? 
Oh ! keep the blood-hounds from our tear-stained track. 
1850. 



SONNETS. 
I. 

THE WELCOME. 

/^NCE more with sunny heart and beaming eyes 
^^ I welcome thee. The magic of thy art. 
It is the welcome poured upon the skies 

When summer breathes and buds begin to start ; 
For thou hast oped new founts within my soul, 

And spread new beauty round this heart of mine, 



30 



SONNETS. 



And with sweet pictures traced its hidden scroll, 
With characters whose tints are all divine, 

'Tis not the tinsel that tliis hfe displays 

That captivates and chains my soul to thee ; 

But that thy heart each tone and look portrays, 
Revealing there thy soul's rich jewelry — 

'Tis this that makes my heart with thine entwine, 

And me a pilgrim at thy holy shrine. 



II. 

THE QUESTION. 

HAST thou not gazed at eventide alone 
On some bright star that gemmed the dewy sky, 
And mused till love made that sweet star thine own, 

And felt e'er more the soothing star-light nigh ? 
So does my heart retain the good it drank 

While hstening to thy speech that on it fell, 
Entranced like flowers beside the streamlet's bank. 

That musing, owned the magic of the spell. 
And as that stream reveals in its sweet flow 

Each gushing rill through beds of roses strained. 
The falling spray, the rosy-tinted bow, 

And changing skies that on its bosom rained ; 
So doth thy speech reveal the hidden sky. 
The founts and rills that in thy spirit lie. 



SONNETS. 31 



HI. 
THE WISH. 

I WOULD that while I muse and sing of thee, 
I might then hold thy trembling hand in mine, 
And in the blue within thy star-lit eye might see 

Whether my own is there enshrined in thine ! 
Or like the leaves that gHde neglected by, 

That oft we heedless trample 'neath our feet, 
Or warm south winds that pass us with a sigh, 

Thou dost these humble breathings greet. 
E'en then the thought would not oppress my soul. 

Nor vain regrets across my bosom steal. 
For then in thee I'd own thy sweet control 

To lift the veil that hides my fond ideal. 
Not thus this welcome comes to thee, I know. 
The cloud rejects the stream it taught to flow ! 



IV. 
THE APOLOGY. 

TF while you read these lines Pve penned for thee, 
-*- The thought should softly steal across thy heart 
That I too much have loved till hearts agree ! 

Let now the thought no more in thee have part ; 
It is that thou hast stood 'twixt me and all 

My soul has loved in woman's soul and name, 



32 SONNETS, 

And canst sweet glimpses to my soul recall 
Of all that love has kindled into flame ; 

The silent joy that on my heart was shed, 

Like some sweet star that lingered o'er my way, 

The secret thought that all my footsteps led 
And fashioned me by its controlHng sway ; 

Forgive me, then, if now these pictured skies 

I see reflected in thy soul-Ht eyes. 



GLIMPSES. 

'I T 7ITH vision rapt, as toward the spangled skies 

^ ^ The lone astronomer doth bend his sight, 
And nightly there, within the blue, espies 

Each shining orb that gems the brow of night. 
And finds his joy to note each changing view 

That bursts upon his sight, a joy new-born, 
And never tires, but finds his task more new, 

Till o'er the hills there breaks the coming morn ; 
So doth my heart ne'er tire to gaze on thee, 

Sweet star that Love has planted in my sky. 
Which on my soul-lit disk I now may see. 

And still in loving thee would draw more nigh ! 
Tires not while I recall thy looks and tones. 
As shells their loves within their sea-washed cones. 



VI. 
THE SHRINE. 

\ X THAT joy is thine that through thy spirit flows, 

^ ^ The gift that nature gave thy generous mind, 
A woman's soul that through thine eyehds glows, 

Where truthfulness and beauty sit enshrined ; 
And these so tempered in so fine a mould 

That there sweet Poesy may claim her bower, 
From whose fair shrine there spring such sweets 
untold, 

The' rich aroma of thy soul's sweet flower, 
That round thy form an atmosphere there seems 

To make all hearts for seeing thee more fair, 
Through which the beauty of thy spirit gleams 

Like star-light through the pure translucent air ; 
And thus entranced I go from seeing thee, 
More worshipful, those rays had met in me. 



VII. 
REPOSE. 

'nr^HINK me not, Rose, grown cold, or love thee less, 
-*" Than first I learned to bless and speak thy name ; 
When to our lips our words more freely came. 
All fraught with thoughts of hope and tenderness. 
It is because I love thee more, that we 



34 SONNETS. 

Before our window pane, in twilight hour, 

Now sit entranced, or 'neath our tangled bower 
We silent sit and hst the melody 

Of running streams that murmur at our feet. 
My joy is full, our hearts together chime, 
While all our thoughts translate themselves in rhyme, 

And thus the circle of our joys complete ; 
What need of words to break the soothing spell, 
To speak what silent lips can better tell ? 



VIII. 

ABSENCE. 

TTOW dark the Night, when 'neath her dewy eyes 
■^ "■• No meek-orbed stars adorn her princely robes, 
But hung with clouds, the still and starless skies 

Forget the royal pomp that gilds their globes ! 
The king had gone, but only clouds concealed 

The view that kept the bridal stars from sight ; 
For deep within, his royal heart revealed 

The living flames that kept those fires so bright, 
That though concealed from sight, in glittering cars, 

With golden lance and banners wet with dews, 
Did hght proceed to kindle up the stars. 

And kept them glowing with their crimsoned hues ; 
And thus thy name reveals the joys I feel. 
That time and absence would in vain conceal. • 



SONNETS. 35 



IX. 
LOVE UNIVERSAL. 

THE love the soul may nurse can never die, 
Nor does it here in partial circles play ; 
True love is deep, expansive as the sky. 

And has immortality for its day. 
There is a love the flower doth bear the star, 

That brooks and rills must cherish for the rain, 
When night bedecks the sky, or when afar 

The dripping clouds hang lingering o'er the plain ; 
But only flowers can mate with flowers, and cloud with 
riU, 
And suns with suns, and stars with stars must 
chime ; 
Echo answers echo, and. hill to hill. 

And leaf to bud and bud to blossom rhyme — 
Yet each with voice and perfume fills the air, 
And loving all, loves Him, who made them fair. 



X. 

THE FAREWELL. 

/^NCE more thy music dies upon my ears, 

^^ Like distant waves upon the sea-washed shore ; 

My soul is hushed, and now in silence hears 

The parting voice it ne'er may listen more ; 
But still my moistened heart within doth lie 

Like grass and flowers beneath the sheltered wood. 



36 



SONNETS. 



Through which the falHng rain-drops from the sky 
Between the leaves invade the soHtude. 

Ah ! ne'er, though seas may roll 'twixt thee and me 
And life bewilder by its toil and care, 

Can I forget the good thou wert to me, 

Or Love the blended sweets it used to share : 

Forgive the hand that thus in silence bore 

The torch no other soul may kindle more. 



XI. 
EXPLANATION. 



THUS have I mused and breathed in humble verse, 
The rose-leaved thoughts that to these rhymes 
belong ; 
Thus lonely sung, as birds their notes rehearse 

Though none may Hsten to their simple song. 
It was not mine to act the lover's part, 

And pour the words that they alone may feel ; 
But oft I've silent nursed within my heart 

A love my timid soul could not reveal ! 
That past how dear \ a templed hall I tread 

That angel thought around my soul has reared, 
And oft I go and to the shrine I'm led 

Where some sweet love that friendly past ensphered ; 
And thus around my lonely path I throw 
A gleam of light that even I may know ! 

1850. 



A FIRE MAN' 3 ADDRESS. 37 



A FIREMAN'S ADDRESS. 

\ LL hail ! sweet harp, while o'er thy tuneful strings 
-^^ The poet's hand his humble garland flings — 
All hail ! for thou dost give the tribute due 
To all that's good and beautiful and true ; 
Thy rhythmic tones are welcome as they fall 
As dew-drops are unto each leafy hall ! 
As welcome to our feasts as in the choir, 
When unto God we raise our voice and lyre ; 
As welcome e'er within the cotter's walls. 
As when they flow within scholastic halls. 

My theme to-day — this festal day of yours, 

To noble thoughts my v/ilHng soul allures ; 

We meet to-day, not as the soldiers meet, 

In deadly fight, their foe beneath their feet ; 

This joyous day, this freeman's ample tent. 

Encircle men with no such rude intent. 

And though each arm we raise, each breast we brave, 

In manly strength wx challenge but to save ! 

To see what arm is strongest in the fight 

When, worse than human foe, with fearless might 

The red-hoofed steed with blazing chariots roll. 

And wrap our homes within their winding scroll ; 

With blazing torch and rushing tones advance. 

More fierce than voice of war or soldier's lance, 

While fiercer still the living fire ascends, 

And o'er the burning pile pale Terror bends ; 

And fierce Revenge with lurid eye looks on. 

And wildly laughs while bleeding hearts are torn. 



38 A FIREMAN'S ADDRESS. 

But list ! what voice is this that cries aloud ? 
A shriek is heard ! and, frantic- struck, the crowd 
Look up, the ladder trembles, and the walls 
Are falling one by one : but Duty calls ! 
With manly hearts and nerves like living steel — 
For hands are found wherever hearts may feel — 
A fireman mounts, and soon within his arm 
He bears a form untouched by wrong or harm — 
A woman's form, or child's with laughing eye, 
Heedless as blossoms of a wintry sky. 
And 'midst the cheers that fill each grateful heart, 
In safety now their trembling forms depart. 



O holy love ! that prompts to deeds like these, 

That fears not flood, nor fire, nor rolling seas, 

But where the burning flames in madness blaze, 

Or rushing winds the rolhng waves upraise ; 

Where wrecks on land or sea, or helping hand 

May call, can summon there the angel-band 

To do, to suffer, or to die, to bless ; 

O holy love, and Heaven-born tenderness ! 

O happy Earth ! if all thy children strove 

To find sweet Wisdom's paths — the paths of Love ; 

To see what hands the lowly seeds might sow 

That round our homes their sweetest perfume throw, 

Or pluck the most of weeds that choke the way 

Where Joy's pure rills in gushing fountains play ; 

That strive the most to quench the rising flame 

That blackens o'er that best — a brother's name ; 

That wraps the world in clouds of fire and smoke, 

And smites the earth, as 'neath the battle's stroke 



A FIREMAN'S ADDRESS. 



39 



The fields lie parched, the plains with crimson wet, 
Where once the Rill, the Rose, and Lily met. 



No smoke to-day ascends from hill or field ; 

To Commerce now our conquering arms v\'e yield. 

To star-eyed Peace we bring our rhythmic lyre, 

While hushed is Sorrow's voice and Passion's fire. 

To Science now our wilHng feet are led, 

Water we throw instead of melted lead, 

And thus w^e quench the lurid flames that rise 

And hide our faces from the smiling skies. 

The conqueror's fame in winding robes we lay, 

His garlands fade before the coming day. 

For Labor now our willing hearts reyere. 

The heart's true king, to freemen's hearts so dear. 

To labor then we raise our thoughts and songs, 

And plead its joys, its blessings, and its wrongs. 

For all that makes this earth a place so blest, 

And gives to life its flavor and its zest. 

We like its noise, the voice of stream and bird. 

The whispering leaves, the low of distant herd ; 

The sound of waters from the gurgling rills, 

The whistle shrill that echoes o'er the hills ; 

The farmer's flail, the ploughboy's rustic song, 

As through the lane he careless jogs along ; 

The tinkhng bells of cattle in the fields. 

The social tones that yonder cottage yields ; 

O music sweet and dear to every heart 

Wherever founts of thouo:ht and feelinof start ! 

For in those tones all notes of sweetness blend, 

And o'er those scenes the Loves and Graces bend. 



40 



A FIREMAN'S ADDRESS, 



And water bright, we sing thy praises too, 
That falls in rain and in the mountain dew ; 
That fills the streams and make their banks run o'er, 
And piles the sand along old Ocean's shore ; 
That turns the wheels that make the spindles fly, 
That lifts the wave and piles the billows high. 
Each litde flower that blooms upon the field, 
Doth love the clouds and drink the drops they yield ; 
The tasselled corn, the golden wheat look up, 
And share the drops of thy o'erflowing cup ; 
While flsh and beast, and all that breathe the air. 
Thy common bounty and thy blessing share. 
Life-stream and current of the earth thou art. 
Fair type of Truth, whose silent rivers start. 
And gushing 'neath the crystal throne above. 
Flow on through circles of eternal Love. 
To Peace enshrined, with Purity ye blend. 
To Health endeared, to Industry a friend ; 
An angel moves upon thy healing wave, 
Bethesda still art thou, to heal and save. 



There's fire whose flames around our dwellings roll, 

There's fire that burns the graces of the soul, 

That runs in madness through each living vein. 

And gives to Death the terror of its reign. 

For fires without and fires within that glow. 

No better friend than water springs we know ; 

Then blessing on the clouds that blessing fall ; 

All blessing on the fount that blesses all ! 

To labor then, we pledge each heart and hand. 

And from the streams that rhyming through the land. 



A FIREMAirS ADDRESS. 4I 

Attune the soul to nature's soothing voice, 

We quench our thirst and bid our hearts rejoice. 

And hke those rills that through our meadows flow, 

Refreshing all as on their waters go, 

Reflecting in their breast the blue above. 

And bearing to the sea its tale of love ; 

So pure within that not a thought has birth 

But brings some blessing to the waiting earth ; 

So pure our lives, no partial ties we call. 

While clouds distill and water runs for all. 

A brother see, a hand we'll give to save 

Wherever sin or ^\Tong may make a slave ; 

In Europe's courts, in lands accursed by chains, 

Or in our own — where'er oppression reigns. 

And as the rivers rush unto the sea, 

And lose themselves in its immensity, 

While o'er its breast a life springs up anew. 

And more sublime than e'er before they knew. 

Now joining lands that owned no friendly scope. 

And bearing up the nations' wealth and hope ; 

So as our thoughts to that one centre bend 

Where all of love and power and wisdom blend, 

A life sublimer far than seas may know 

Shall greet us here as to that source we go. 



O happy country ours ! where hearts like these, 

Erect and stalwart as our northern trees. 

In virtue schooled, in friendship's chain are found, 

In love's sweet name, to love's sweet cause are bound ; 

By wisdom taught in wisdom's ways to go. 

Where peace abounds and pleasures ever flow. 



42 TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 

Then welcome all ! unto the brim now fill 
The cup of joy with nectar from the rill ; 
The cheerful word now pass from lip and heart, 
And kindly thoughts from their deep fountains start, 
Till hearts run o'er as do the stars with light, 
And ever}' eye shall brighten at the sight. 
1852. 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 

Delivered before the Dashaway Association, San Francisco, Sunday 
evening, December i, 1861. 

TN every land the Poet has his seat, 
-^ Where he his humble verses may repeat ; 
While listening crowds will gather round to hear, 
And raise a smile — perchance a falling tear. 
Sometimes he sings of love, in rhythmic lays. 
Beside his lady's feet, her eyehds praise ; 
Sometimes in sacred hymns he breathes his lays, 
And lifts to God the grateful words of praise ; 
In organ notes the swelling sound prolongs 
The praise of Him to whom all praise belongs. 
And when to arms his country's cause he hears, 
And v.-ar bursts forth upon his listening ears ; 
When rifled guns and booming cannon roar. 
And hungry vultures o'er our armies soar ; 
When Treason shrieks and fills our stricken land, 
To arms his verses call and nerve the soldier's hand. 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 43 

To arms ! to arms ! repeats the startling cry, 
Till southward still our noble eagles fly ; 
And high o'er all our starry banners wave 
O'er freedom's land and foul rebellion's grave. 

'Tis not of war the Poet speaks to-night, 
Nor is it love that fills his eyes with light ; 
He speaks of blight far wider than the land 
Where horses with their stricken riders stand ; 
Where forests vast in splintered timbers rest, 
Like fallen plumes upon a monarch's breast ; 
With cultured fields of corn and sheaves bereft, 
And nothing but the bladeless hillocks left ; 
Where orchard trees no more their blossoms yield, 
No voice of robin in the distant field ; 
No nestlets hanging in the trembling leaves, 
No twittering swallow 'neath the shady eaves ; 
Where now the spearless ground and broken earth 
Speak of the pangs that gave fair Freedom" birth. 

Nor is it love that sleeps 'neath Cupid's wings 
And like the nightingale its passion sings ; 
That lives on dew the roses' leaves distill, 
And drinks the nectar that the moments fill ; 
It is not love that breaks the knightly lance. 
And brooks not smiles from a rival's glance ; 
But love that in its ample folds embrace 
Our country, God, and next the human race. 

'Tis evening now, the Sabbath hour of rest, 
The dove of peace is nesthng on each breast ; 



44 TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 

The streets are still, the hour of rest has come, 
The evening bells have ceased their pleasant hum. 
The jnidnight hours approach — see yonder now, 
A woman's form, how pale her troubled brow ! 
Beside the window pane her eyelids wait 
To watch the opening of the cottage gate. 
The pale stars come and go, the moon sweeps by, 
But naught she hears except the watchman's cry. 
Past twelve o'clock, the dial figures show. 
And on the hearth the dying embers glow. 
Alone she sits, how cold the air and chill ! 
How death-like all, the weary hours how still ! 
The shadows come and go upon the cottage walls, 
Yet round the dreary door no footstep falls. 
" He comes not yet, my weary heart shall fail, 
Oh ! see my child, its hps, how cold and pale ! 
Why does he stay ? What binds his stalwart feet 
That once outran the mountain reindeer fleet ? 
What keeps his hand away from latch and door ? 
His safe return our weary hearts implore." 
The hours pass on, the morning light appears ; 
Behold that widow's form — in vain her tears. 
By yonder church behold each new-made grave. 
To God return the spirits that He gave. 



All o'er this earth, as thick as autumn leaves, 

Are homes so drear and sad, and graves like these. 

And yet we sleep while viewless through the air, 

Ten thousand gloomy spectres sit and stare. 

And mock at man and at his folly cry. 

While to each heart comes up the question, Why ? 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 45 

Why pass you then the sparkhng wine-cup round. 

If 'neath its beads the serpent's fangs are found ? 

Why pass the sparkhng hquid to the hp, 

If round the glass is pressed the viper's grip ? 

Excitement call you to the burning draught, 

And all thy feelings to its fountains waft ? 

Then turn to nature and in fields and streams, 

Taste the pure joys that contemplation yields. 

The streams will teach you, as they pass along, 

To join them in their joyous chant and song. 

The trees, that blossom in the dewy fields. 

Whose grateful shade the weary traveller shields, •*■ 

Will teach you thus the pilgrim heart to cheer. 

To seek the lost and dry the orphan's tear ; 

And guide your thoughts — heavenward the feelings tend 

To where all hopes and prayers in beauty blend. 



" And why should I my ruby glass forego ? 

My brother's keeper ? No, I'm not, you know. 

I'll not my rights and blessings sign away ; 

I live to live, and to enjoy each day. 

This life is poor at best ; and while I can, 

I'll take my ease — I know no better plan." 

But who are you that thus so wisely talk 1 

Look at yon oak that shades the pebbled walk. 

'Tv/as once a tiny thing^an acorn fell. 

And now its leaves the passing traveller tell. 

How faithfully it grew each day to be 

In all the forest wide the monarch tree ! 

Look at yon streams that onward press their way, 

That love the sunlight and with its shadows play : 



46 TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 

High Up 'mid mountain crags and cooling shade, 

Behold the fountain that the rivers made ; 

A trickling rill next treads the mountain sides ; 

That fills the rivers — to the ocean glides. 

'Tis not the glass, that last the tippler takes, 

The first glass always thus the drunkard makes. 

First comes the seed and next the blades appear, 

Next the full corn that fills the ripened ear. 

First comes the babe, whose fair and twinkling e3^es 

Reflect the joys that in its bosom rise. 

What mother, then, that clasps her darling child. 

Can picture in that face so sweet and mild 

The forms that live within the tempter's eye. 

As spreading leaves within their blossoms lie ? 



Why should not you your brother's sorrow share. 
And for his wants provide your thought and care ? 
Where do you live ? What land gave you your birth ? 
How came you here upon this toiling earth ? 
To none owest thou a debt of love or gold. 
And nauo:ht to orive for all this wealth untold ? 
Then go to climes where sun nor star shall glow, 
Where tempests blow and drifting falls the snow ; 
And where no plow has tilled the blooming land, 
And no soft winds the dewy meadows fanned ; 
Where balmy air and fragrant flowers are none, 
And no sweet streamlets to their rivers run ; 
Where patriots lived not, and human love is hate — 
Then come and of thy rights and pleasures prate ! 
Let praise ascend to God ! He gave us birth. 
And planned our homes upon this blooming earth ; 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS, 47 

He gave the cattle on the thousand hills, 

And for their thirst the waters of the rills. 

He gave us prophets wise whose tongues were flames, 

And patriots whose words have carved their names 

Where liberty sits and with uplifted hand. 

Now sways her sceptre o'er a mighty land. 

He gives us fields, and rain and falling dew, 

And meadows wide with streamlets running through. 

He made the law — the hands alone that toil 

The harvest reap that cheers the teeming soil ; 

That he best lives who others aids ; the rain 

The sky shall weep, the sun returns again : 

And he that takes from other hands their chains 

Unclasps some habit that his soul enchains ; 

Who lifts unto his brother's lips the cup, 

On nectar lives and with the angels sup ; 

Who pours the oil of joy in others' hearts. 

Unto his own a holier joy imparts. 

Each dollar, too, we give for Love's sweet sakes, 

Enriches most the soul that gives, not takes. 

And there are those, though rich, yet still in need, 

And those we now call poor, yet rich indeed ; 

The one may own the land where he may He, 

The other owns the landscape and the sky. 

And there are those whose heads and hearts agree, 

Though rich in gold yet rich in grace may be. 



To-night, beyond the mountain — by the sea, 
Encamped in tents our noble armies see ; 
Another cry still calls us to the fight. 
Yet not to carnage, but for truth and right ; 



48 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 



Around our souls our milk-white tents to rear, 
And angel guides to be forever near ; 
When'er the tempter comes with winning smiles 
And with his arts the willing heart beguiles, 
To dash the cup, to free the captive hand. 
And bless again our own, our stricken land. 
And then another corner-stone* we'll lay- 
In hope and trusting for a better day ; 
Now one by one the noble walls arise, 
And catch the lustre of the bending skies ; 
Fair Eden blooms, the flaming swords dissolve, 
And heavenward swells the high resolve : 
No more we'll pass the wine cup round to sip. 
Or lift the sparkhng liquid to our lip. 
We'll strive for man, for those who weary roam. 
And seek to bring the lost, the erring home. 
The happy pairs return in peace again. 
Again begins on earth the heavenly reign ; 
For where fair Temperance springs there comes each 

grace, 
Truth, Love, in turn Religion bless the race ; 
Along the blooming banks the streams pass by. 
And mirror back their own, their native sky. 



Hail ! brothers, hail ! who nightly crowd this hall, 
Who nobly come and stand at duty's call. 
Whose beacon towers o'er the tossing wave, 
Whose motto is. We battle but to save ! 

♦The Dashaway Association had just laid the comer-stoneof their new 

edifice. 



TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 49 

Is Temperance good ? Go ask the man the charm — 
Whose Master's voice restored his withered arm ; 
Go ask the lame he made to walk upright ; 
The blind, his touch restored to health and sight ; 
Then ask what power gave truth and love their birth, 
And spread their fame throughout the waiting earth. 



In yonder isle that gems the distant sea, 
Ascends a soul that made the bondman free ;* 
'Tis said, as now he seeks the spirit-land, 
He bears a million shackles in his hand. 
What signs of triumph shalt thou meekly bear ? 
What cross of noble toil, what crown of care ? 
When thou before the Lord of love shalt go. 
What deeds recite, what victories shall show ? 
Go seek some gold in earth still buried deep, 
Some crystal gems that still in silence sleep. 
And make a casket fit for angels' eyes. 
To bear thy gift when thou shalt seek the skies. 
In it with prayer thy sacred gift now place, 
A human heart restored, to bless our race. 
'Twill bear thee up above the darksome wave — 
In saving others thou thyself shalt save ! 

* Wilberforce. 



so 



THE OAK AND VINE, 



THE OAK AND VINE. 

A FABLE. 

A LITTLE vine an acorn met 
That just began to grow ; 
And said to him, " Be not an oak, 
But be a vine so low. 



Lift not thy head in sinful pride 

To yonder jeweled sky. 
But dwell on earth an humble thing, 

And own the One most high. 



" Oh ! put not forth thy branches strong, 
And brave his sovereign power, 
But be a vine whose dewy flowers 
Embalm the passing hour. 



" And seek some humble nook to dwell, 
And climb some lowly wall. 
To be a graceful vine Hke me, 
And not a tree so tall." 



The acorn would not hear the vine, 

And grew a stately oak, 
And lived to smile upon the storm 

And brave each lightning stroke. 



THE OAK AND VINE, 5 I 

The traveller often stopped, and 'neath 

His branches weary sunk, 
And e'en the vine I found one day 

Entwining round his trunk. 



The old stone wall, that long had been 

Her simple humble stay, 
Had crumbled 'neath the touch of time, 

And mouldered into clay. 



All torn and bleeding then the vine 

Was waving in the air. 
The wind was sporting by in mirth 

All heedless of her prayer. 



At length she humbly sought the oak. 
And twined her garland braid. 

And found protection in his strength, 
And beauty in his shade. 



She httle knew the living Soul, 
In whom we raise our hymn. 

That he who truly trusts himself 
Most truly trusts in Him. 



1832. 



52 



REVERIE. 



REVERIE. 



I'M blest with life ; joy fills my veins 
As do their brimming founts the rains 
That overflow the hills and plains. 

I'm blest with thought ; a soul to see 
Each varied truth and harmony 
That blooms alike for you and me. 

I'm blest with friends ; to whom I look, 
As blossoms rest in some sweet nook 
Upon the bosom of a brook. 

I have a home to which to fly, 
That e'er is imaged in my eye ; 
Oh ! had but all such homes as I ! 

And thoughts I have ; a fond ideal, 

Where blight ne'er comes, nor thieves may steal, 

And though unseen, for that more real ! 

All nature on me waits and yields 

Her gift of flowers, of stream, and fields, 

And all my cares and doubting heals. 

Nor less to me her love she shows. 
That unto all her blessing flows ; 
For each, for all, her blossom grows. 



IN A VALLEY SWEET AND LOIVLY. 53 

And when in grief I hear a call, 
God's own right arm will save my fall, 
Can bear me up, my cross, and all ! 

And though I live on land or sea. 
As God loves all, he so loves me, 
And thus his love has set me free ! 
1852. 



IN A VALLEY SWEET AND LOWLY. 

TN a valley sweet and lowly, 
-■■ Glides a streamlet on its way ; 
There it murmurs rich and slowly. 
Half in thought and half in play. 

On the bosom of that streamlet, 

Dancing on the crystal wave. 
Come the flowers, and by its margin 

Birds retreat to sing and lave. 

Rills from mossy rocks and fountains. 
Trickling down the mountain's side. 

Waltzing come with rhythmic footsteps. 
Feeding there the crystal tide. 

And the clouds that hover over 
Drop a blessing on the stream ; 

On the grass and scented clover. 
Drinking music from its dream. 



54 



ISABEL. 

Still the stream doth tarry never, 
Gliding on through dell and plain ; 

For unthinking, bent on duty. 

Comes the dew and comes the rain. 

And at night the stars do bless it 
From the blue that they enshrine, 

Where above they come and sparkle 
And its breast they undershine. 



X852. 



ISABEL. 

'\T7E met one eve ; I saw her leaning there, 

^ ^ As to my sight her form is pictured now : 
In silken folds her rich and flowing hair 

Hung trailing down her gently shaded brow ; 
Her head recHning on a naked arm, 

A drooping bud upon its rose-like stem ; 
Her eyes, half-closed, concealed their inward charm 

Beneath the blue within their fringe-hke hem. 

A moment more, I clasped her jeweled hand. 

And drank the sunshine of her flashing eye. 
And saw, within the sweet and dream-like land, 

The star-like thoughts that gemmed her dewy sky, 
My throbbing heart, a bird of fluttering wing, 

Beat wildly 'gainst its warm and prisoned breast ; 
For such is Love, a sweet yet fearful thing. 

E'en while we linger round its downy nest 



ISABEL. 55 

Like two sweet stars that dew-like flow in one, 
And blend the beauty of each falling ray, 

That 'mid the changes of the sky and sun 
Go gayly waltzing through their milky- way ; 

Thus linked in twain, their joys and griefs the same, 
All other loves, Love teaching them to shun, 

Whose orbed-like hearts the passers-by exclaim, * 
" These are not two — they seem to us but one !" 



So passed the hours as with each joy and fear, 

With trembhng hand I led my captive bird, . 
And in more free and sweet familiar cheer 

The flutterings ceased that first her presence stirred. 
In converse free, our joys and hopes the same. 

The hours sped by without a thought or care, 
While other lips had dared to speak a name 

That by her lisped another would she bear ! 



There is a time for flowers to drop away, 

When stars must fade before the gazer's eye, 
When on the hills must rest the parting ray 

That falls like crimson from the pensive sky ; 
And so the parting hour must come to all. 

The hush that ;narks the close of harmony ; 
Yet like two rose leaves that together fall. 

So sweet, yet sadly, came that hour to me.^ 
1850. 



56 THE HEART AND ITS ANGEL, 



THE HEART AND ITS ANGEL. 

THE Heart awaits its Angel 
To lead it to the Right, 
Who knows its secret windings, 
We all would see the light. 



In prison-house gf bondage 
While we in darkness dwell, 

We long for some sweet morrow 
To light our gloomy cell. 

We look from out our windows 
To catch its first faint rays ; 

The morn that melts its gratings 
And round our spirit plays. 



We oft away would wander 
As birds upon their wing. 

As swallows round us hover 
When joy awakes the spring. 



We long for that bright morrow, 
To crow^n this struggling life ; 
Oh ! come to us, our Angel — 
Our Poet, Teacher, Wife ! 
1850. 



JENNY LIND. 57 



JENNY LIND. 

A SONG for thee, sweet Nightingale ! thy hand the 
harp hast swept 
On which, through ages past, the cherub harmonies had 

slept. 
Waiting a hand whose magic strings would yield to its 

control. 
For every strain the harp*awakes reveals the hidden 
soul. 



O world within, that lies between our souls and God's 

above. 
Whose beams are laid in music and whose dome is 

arched in Love, 
'Tis thine, sweet Nightingale, to lisp, interpret into 

song 
The thoughts that fill its palaces, and to that world 

belong. 



When some sweet bird the summer brinsfs enlivens 

groves and fields, 
We know the clime that gave it birth, the beauty that it 

yields ; 
We hear the summer in its song, and from its dewy 

wing 
There drops the fragrance of the flowers that there are 

blossominof. 



58 HATTIE TO CHARLES. 



So doth thy song reveal the world that round thy spirit 

lies, 
That gushes forth in melody -and glimmers through 

thine eyes ; 
Thou bring'st us ghmpses here, to these low vales in 

which we dwell. 
Of life within and life beyond, no other lips may tell. 



" \V elcome, sweet Nightingale ! for thee our w^aiting 

hearts are bowers !'' 
Is now the voice that greets thee from these sweet 

homes of ours ; 
To lands of snow nor lands of fruit dost thou alone 

belong. 
All hearts and tongues now blend in one, to hail thee — 

Queen of Song ! 

1849. 



WHAT HATTIE 

MAY BE SUPPOSED TO SAY ON THE EVE OF HER 

MARRIAGE ! 

TT was for thee I left my native shore, 

^ And friends and home that meet my sight no more ; 

The foaming waves, the resdess tide and sea 

Were naught to tempt my heart away from thee. 



LINES. 



59 



Though billows rolled — the sun refused its rays, 
Swift sped the hours and golden sped the days ; 
For love had painted bright the darkest sky, 
And imaged thee where'er I turned my eye. 



And now in wedlock bonds our hearts are bound ; 
The branch that blossomed long, w^ith fruit is found ! 
Transplanted here, where Hesper led my way, 
May now our loves shine steady as its ray ! 
Thy name I take — though hard to speak it seems, 
It still is linked with all my fondest dreams ; 
And what care I though consonants are rife. 
If known to thee by that sweet name of — wife ! 
1859. 



LINES. 

TT7E met, but for a while ! 

^ ^ Thy melting eyes 
Across me flashed like rays 
Adown the skies. 



I saw thee smile, a heaven 
Was in that look ! 

Thy voice the music seemed 
Of some sweet brook. 



6o THE SILVER LI XING, 

But like the star, that sank 
Beneath the sea, 

A brook that by us passed, 
Thou wert to me. 

Am I not better grown 
Since then we met ? 

The good my soul drank in 
Can I forget ? 

Does not the flower on which 
Some star-lit ray 

Rests trembhngly, and brooks 
Have sung their lay, 

Retain the beauty that 
It drank so free ? 

That star and brook wert thou 
That smiled on me ! 
1851. 



o 



THE SILVER LINING. 

NATURE fond ! whose heart is true, 
In sadness wrapt, I flee to you ! 



Your green-leafed trees and running streams 
Shall lull my soul to pleasant dreams. 



THE SILVER LINING, 6l 

Your lap I seek — how soft the bed 
To weary limbs and aching head ! 

Oh ! speak to me with voice so mild, 
And lead me now, your loving child. 

The nest I sought the wind has torn, 
And like a bird of rest I'm shorn. 

I strive to rise, I can not sing, 
A bird I am of broken wing. 

O Nature fond ! whose heart is true. 
In sadness wrapt, I flee to you ! 



I saw the sower sow his seed. 

In faith the blade would next proceed ; 

That morning dew and falling rain 
Would moisten hill and drench the plain ; 

That sunshine, too, tlie days would bring, 
And harvest time would follow spring. 

I saw the dew the morning wept 
That on the Hly's bosom slept, 

Whose fragrant leaves perfumed the air ; 
It made that lily far more fair 



62 THE SILVER LINING. 



Than all the flowers that graced the plain, 
Which knew no dew nor falHng rain. 



And then to Hope I gave my fears — 
An angel whispered in my ears : 



" Come now in thought, and with me range 
The fields and skies, and bless each change 

" That visits you, though friendsliip's hand 
Shall write her name upon the sand ; 

" Though 'mid the darkness of the night, 
The beacon stars refuse their light. 



*' For God still Hves, supreme his laws ; 
The rule is his — effects from cause. 



" The fruit may fall upon the plain, 
But blossoms come and fruit again ; 

" And flying southward, robins sing. 
After the winter comes the spring ; 

" And where the fields are wrapt in snows, 
Some gentle hand shall pluck the rose." 
1858. 



A FACTORY VILLAGE AT NIGHT 63 



A FACTORY VILLAGE AT NIGHT. 

ON yonder stream, a thousand lights 
With silver, gold, and crimson tipped, 
Danced gayly on its rippled breast ; 
The factory bell in water dipped. 
Its tones pealed forth o'er hill and vale, 

And to its loud and lengthened call, 
A group appeared and filled each path 
Around each high and dusky wall. 



It was a fairy scene, this life 

Reflected by the colored beams — 
The many forms that went and came, 

As figures come and go in dreams ; 
The lights that danced upon the wave. 

The stars reflected from their blue. 
The landscape wide, and towering walls 

That there entranced me with their view. 



Near by, a plot of graves I saw. 

That sloped beneath their moon-lit shade- 
A new-made mound, and grass and flowers 

Just tumbled by the sexton's spade ; 
And o'er this stranger grave I wept. 

And all the griefs of those that toil. 
The many hopes that blossom here, 

The lordly hands of time despoil. 



64 SPRING AND CHILDHOOD, 

I gazed once more ; the evening lights 

Had faded from that fairy scene, 
And naught was heard except the wail 

Of that sweet stream that rolled between 
As though it held within its breast 

The griefs the walls had imaged there, 
And pouring them in low complaint. 

So sadly to the listening air. 
1849. 



SPRING AND CHILDHOOD. 

/^LD Winter, with his blighting blasts and chills, 

^^ Has gone at last, and o'er the fields and hills 

Has gathered up his flowing robes, that hid 

The grass and flowers beneath his icy lid ; 

And now the fields with verdure start anew. 

And ancient streams their solemn chants renew, 

While from their darkened homes the plants look up. 

And on their stems engraft their dewy cup — 

That vestal urn in whose baptismal dew 

Is orbed the image of its native blue ; 

The birds with music fill the listening wood, 

And trickling rills invade the solitude ; 

The youthful year now greets the smiling earth. 

And countless buds are bursting into birth. 

Thus spring and childhood clasp each willing hand, 
And rhyming go throughout the dewy land. 



MV CHILDHOOD'S HOME, 65 

Mark how the dust and stains the earth had worn 

Now disappear beneath this vernal morn ; 

Where blood had flown, and war and carnage rife, 

No blade is left to tell the angry strife ; 

No wind has tarried long the tale to tell 

To listening founts and fairy woods and dell ; 

But on their stems, beneath baptismal snow, 

The Spring's young buds and fresher blossoms grow. 

So childhood comes — perpetual springs unfold ; 

Go bring youc myrrh, your frankincense and gold ! 

1849. 



MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

HOW fondly yet I look to thee, 
My old paternal home ! 
Though oft my feet may wander far, 

My heart can never roam : 
For shall the flower forget the seed ? 

The bird forget its nest ? 
Then how can I forget the roof 
So imaged in my breast 1 



How oft in twilight's pensive hour 
And in the busy street, 



66 MV CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

I'm thinking of my childhood's home 
I pattered with my feet ! 

And then I am a boy once more, 
A boy of tearless eye ; 

My father was my playmate then, 
As' much a child as I. 



Ah ! well do I remember too 

The songs he used to sing, « 
To shed the sunshine round my heart 

Where now sweet memories cling ! 
And how he used to speak of home 

When once he was a boy — 
The thoughts he had, the things he did, 

His tales of grief and joy ; 



Until the tear within his eye, 

That toward the Past was turned. 
Did nurse within my heart the love 

That in his bosom burned. 
The homestead old, the cherry tree. 

His childhood's happy dreams ; 
The old stone well, the village school. 

Were then my father's themes. 



And well do I remember too 
The love I used to share, 

When such a tiny boy I was — 
My mother's only care. 



MV CHILDHOOD'S HOME. Gj 

How 'neath her love I shelter found, 

As 'neath an angel's wing, 
And how she nursed my hopes, that then 

Began their blossoming. 

And how unconscious by their love 

Each thought and feeling grew. 
Twin flowers that bloom within the soul 

An unity in two ! 
And,when to manhood I had grown, 

I saw her honest joy 
In gazing on the future sky 

That dawq^d upon her boy ! 

How in the garden of their love 

New flowers inhaled the light. 
New sharers of our household joys 

Where all before was bright ; 
But two of them are gone before, 

A little bud and rose, 
Transplanted in the spirit-land 

Where God's own river flows. 

How fondly yet I look to thee. 

My old paternal home ! 
Though oft my feet may wander far, 

My heart can never roam ; 
For shall the flower forget its seed ? 

The bird forget its nest ? 
Then how can I forget the roof 

So imaged in my breast ? 



1851. 



6S THE POET, 



THE POET. 



THINK not the Poet's gift is vain, 
And paints as things unreal, 
What has no being but in thought. 
In fancy's fair Ideal. 

There's naught in Thought, how bright so e'er 

The thought within doth gleam. 
But shall in greater splendor rise 

Than any fairy dream ! 

The poet's gift is prophecy. 

By inspiration sealed ; 
He knows the thoughts the lilies teach, 

And which the streamlets yield. 

Each bird that pours its carols out 

Within its shelt'ring trees. 
Each flower that with its dewy lip 

Doth kiss the South-Land breeze ; 

The rains and dew, the rill and cloud 

That overhang the skies. 
Bear some sweet message to his heart, 

Or beauty to his eyes. 

Like tree or vine that treasure up 
The dew within their shoots. 



GOD SPEED THE PLOIV i 69 

And breathe their poems in their flowers, 
And in their rhyming fruits ; 

The spirit, too, may flower as well 

As vine, or plant, or tree ; 
That flowering is its peaceful thoughts 

It breathes in poesy ! 

To know the poet's gift, when true, 

Go ask the bird or tree, 
The texture makes the leaf or flower, 

Foretells the melody. 

In Wisdom's soil his thoughts must grow, 

And nursed by Love each hour, 
Till dew and sunshine blend in one 

And form within the flower. 

% 
Thus thought in God expands in worlds, 

Deny it those who can ! 
And poems all are trees and flowers, 

Th' unfolded soul of man. 
1850. 



GOD SPEED THE PLOW I 



A 



LIFE amid the fields. 
What noble joys it yields 
To those who toil ! 



yo GOD SPEED THE PLOW! 

Who love the spreading tree, 
corn to see — 
The teemins: soil. 



The growing corn to see — 



'«3 



How sweet the fields appear 
In all the varied year — 

The tender shoot : 
The new-mown scented hay, 
Where robins skip and play. 

The bud and fruit ; 

The rain that fills the rills, 
The sheep upon the hills 

That tread the maze ; 
And in the peaceful shade, 
By spreading branches made. 

Where cattle graze. 

Oh ! who so rich as he 
With heart by toil set free. 

The farmer's lot ? 
Where want and wasting care 
Raise not their wailing there, 

W^ithin his cot. 

Then welcome plow and toil, 
A life upon the soil — 

The dew-stained brow ! 
Their joys our lips will tell, 
Once more the chorus swell, 

" God speed the plow !" 



1849. 



TO DORA. 71 



TO DORA. 



CHILD of a sunny brow ! 
Whose glossy hair 
Is of the golden hue 
Our autumns wear ! 



So full of innocence 

Thy looks bespeak, 
The angels' breath seems still 

Upon thy cheek. 

Thy eye reveals its home, 

As does the dew, 
For its sweet heaven is seen 

Within its blue. 

Thy heart is like a stream, 

(So pure thy days,) 
On whose translucent breast 

The lily plays. 

How near is heaven to thee, 
Sweet child of ours ! 

As near the budding stems 
Are to the flowers ! 



1848. 



72 LOVE vs, WEALTH. 



LOVE vs. WEALTH. 

MARRY not for wealth, 
Whate'er thy lot ; 
For gold is but pelf 
Where love is not. 

Stoop thou not to take 

A princess' hand, 
If not for thy sake 

She'll by thee stand. 

And take thou the maid 

Unto thy breast, 
Whose true worth has made 

Her name caressed. 

Marry thou for love, 

By truth be led ; 
Toil and look above 

For daily bread. 



ASPIRATIONS. 

/^L"^R thoughts rush up like fountains 
^-^ To greet their native sky ; 
Like spray -drops round their, margin 
That on the blossoms lie, 



THE CROSS. J^ 



They oft return to nourish 
Some half-blown bursting hope, 

And give the soul a better, 
A sweeter, wider scope. 



And though through failing reached not 
The home they sought — the skies, 

We see between the spray-drops 
The bow, expanded, rise. 



1854. 



THE CROSS. 

BY THIS CONQUER. 

X X 7HEN storms assail, and darkness smites the 

^ ^ soul ; 

When stars refuse their light, and billows roll ; 
When every cloud an angry look shall wear. 
And every breeze shall speak of wild despair, 

By this conquer. 



When round thy soul the tempter's chain is thrown, 
And in thy thoughts the seeds of strife are sown. 
If then thou would'st thy strugghng spirit free. 
One look cast thou upon the smitten tree. 

By this conquer. 



74 ^^^ ^RE HERE. 

When faithless friends shall turn from thee away, 
And gentle eyes no longer cheer thy way, 
Turn thou to Christ ; and at his friendly call, 
Thy tears shall cease, thy weary burden fall. 

By this conquer. 

When want and care sit lonely by thy side. 
And doubt and trouble all thy thoughts betide ; 
Then to the cross, if thou shalt turn thy face. 
Thy grief shall vanish in that sweet embrace. 

By this conquer. 

a* 

Its tranquil light shall gladden every hour ; 

The burdened soul shall own its healing power ; 

And when the angels beckon from the*sky, 

Its beams alone can cheer the closing eye. 

By this conquer. 
1855. 



ALL ARE HERE. 

'"r^HE flowers have come, the grass creeps up the 
A hills. 

And paints the valleys with their living green ; 
While dawning day each opening blossom fills 

With sacred dew that night has wept unseen. 

The maiden^ to her garden goes this morn. 

And finds the buds that bloom in sweet surprise ; 



EBITAPH. 

Lo here, where once her bordered plot was shorn, 
Her well-remembered plants in beauty rise. 

Now all are here, though some on withered stems 
Did lowly bow their drooping heads and die ; 

How meekly now they wear their diadems 
And greet the sunlight with rejoicing eye ! 

And as she names the blossoms as they ope, 
And spread their new-born beauty to her eyes, 

She hears the voices of the angel, Hope, 
And thinks of those transplanted in the skies. 
1854. 



EPITAPH. 

'TpHE body is the House 
-*- In which we live, 
Which to the Earth, in Death 
We freely give. 

And death is but the Gate 

Of Destiny, 
A Triumph- Arch, through which 

Our Heaven we see. 

Most precious Dust, O Earth ! 

Is this we yield. 
That 'neath thy grass and flowers 

Thy love may shield. 



75 



76 LINES, 



And while in Temples fair 

Our hopes find rest, 
We'll write our Faith in flowers 

Upon his breast. 

As while the rain-drops fall 

The bow appears, 
The Pearly Gates are seen 

Through falling tears. 



1849. 



LINES. 

T LOVED thee, like a timid fawn 

-■• That nestled on my breast, 

Which sought its shelter from the storm, 

From tumult and unrest ; 
Thou hadst no thought I did not know — 

For none thou hidd'st from me, 
And not a thought within me rose, 

I could not speak to thee. 

And yet we seldom spoke our love, 

Unless the eyes can speak ; 
Those dewy orbs of mellow light, 

That ghstened on thy cheek. 
How oft thereto Fve turned my heart, 

As upward to a star. 
From which thy soul seems beaming through, 

A torch-light from afar. 



LINES. 

Those orbs, how still and silent now, 

That once in beauty rolled, 
That heart that beat beneath thy breast, 

How tranquil and how cold ! 
The dew of death is on thy lip. 

And mantles on thy brow, 
And all the scenes that fancy wrought, 

Have faded from me now. 



Green be the grass that lowly bends 

Above thy silent bed. 
And soft the winds that kiss the flowers 

That bloom around thy head ; 
While oft in thought my heart will roam, 

Where love and sorrow meet ; 
And seek thee in the violets' breath, 

That blossom at thy feet. 



And see thee in the silent stars. 

With chaste and beaming eyes. 
And hear thy footsteps when the dew 

Is falHng from the skies. 
All beauteous things shall speak of thee, 

Because to thee alHed, 
And where fond mem'ry builds her tent, 

I will with thee abide. 
1845. 



77 



78 LEBANON SPRINGS. 



LEBANON SPRINGS. 

T TOW sweet are the waters that gush from the 
■*• ■■■ mountain, 

And, ghding in streamlets around the green earth, 
Bear freshness and verdure to hill-side and valley. 

And give to the flowerets their beauty and birth ; 
How sweet round the green mossy fountain to linger, 

As sparkle its waters with many a beam, 
The nectar to quaff of the dew-laden vessel, 

Of diamonds that melt in the sweet flowing stream. 

The invalid lies on their pearly gemmed bosom, 

And plunges his form in the pure crystal wave, 
And sports Hke a dolphin with life-giving motion. 

As over his bosom the pure waters lave ; 
He rises refreshed like the sun from the ocean. 

And gives to the streamlet each bitter wrung tear. 
He clambers the hill-side with newness of being. 

And bounds o'er the fields like a fleet-footed deer. 



The bright cherubs of health have moved on the waters, 

And in their pavilions have fixed their abode ; 
The multitudes throng them and leave their diseases. 

And throw from their shoulders their cumbersome 
load. 
At noon and at evening the roadside is filling 

With strangers and pilgrims from many a shore, 
Who flock to the waters with joy overflowing, 

As multitudes flocked to Bethesda of yore. 



THE ANGEL HAND. 79 

How sweet o'er the hills, their proud summit ascending, 

To gaze on the valley that slumbers below, 
And see the loved spot that in beauty reposes. 

Where twining in garlands the pure waters flow. 
I see it e'en now, and I think with emotion 

The joy it then brought to my deep swelling breast, 
The friends and the maidens who there gathered round 
me, 

Of the thousands of earth the choicest and best. 



My walks in the glen, by the stream that winds 
through it, 

The green shaded cot at the foot of the hill. 
Where embosomed with flowers, it smiles on the valley, 

And looks with delight on its neighboring rill ; 
The view from my window that gazed on the mountain, 

The feelings of sadness that caused me to pant. 
How well I remember, like scenes of my childhood, 

As visions of beauty that visit my heart. 
1844. 



THE ANGEL HAND. 

TN every joy there is a pain, 
-■-In every rose a thorn ; 
But still the brightest rose we see, 
Beneath a cloud is born. 

By rain and dew and smiles of day. 
The earth is made more bright, 



8o THE INNER MANSION. 



And clearer are the twinkling stars 
That gem the darkest night. 



Then let me fold my heart in peace, 

And take the bitter cup, 
Then shall I see the angel hand, 

And with the angels sup. 

When wintry thoughts will chill my heart, 

Let this afford rehef, 
That He who warms the earth with snow, 



1850. 



Can calm the soul with grief. 



THE INNER MANSION. 

THE heart hath chambers fair, 
A mansion fair to greet, 
And many things are there 
To make the scene complete. 

The walls sweet pictures grace, 
And landscapes grand to see, 

And many an absent face. 
All dear to memory. 

And niches, too, you'll find, 
My household gods to hold. 

With garlands round them twined, 
The seers and bards of old ; 



THE INNER MANSION. 8l 

And paintings of the real 

Adorn each room and hall, 
With fancy's fair ideal 

And rainbow over all ! 



A garden, too, I own, 

A vine to shelter me. 
And flowers — some newly blown, 

Sweet flowers of poesy ! 

Rich fields in which to roam. 
And many a mountain path, 

Lie smiling round my home — 
This Inner- Country hath. 

I love through field and hall 

To hold a silent walk, * 
As voices round me fall. 

When with the past I talk. 

Oh ! then it comes to me 

How once I was a boy. 
When time so sportively 

Filled my young breast with joy ; 

When hfe was free and blithesome 

As ever robin sings. 
And sorrow came as lightsome 

As dew upon its wings. 



82 A PARADOX. 

These childhood scenes are all 
In pictures graven there, 

Rich tableaux on the wall, 
My childhood's pictured prayer ! 



And what if life has failed 
To make this picture real ? 

In prophecy is hailed 
A richer far Ideal ! 



Thus sunshine from above 
Plays gently on the floor. 

While Hope and Faith and Love 
Are angels at the door. 

1S48. 



A PARADOX. 

\ BROODING sadness o'er me steals— 
-^^^ A cloud that hides me from the blue, 
And all the crystal stars conceals, 
From my upturned and longing view. 



A dismal night engulfs my soul 
Of doubt, uncertainty and care. 

And thoughts beyond its sweet control. 
While closed seem all the gates of prayer. 



A TRIBUTE. 83 

For, ling'ring there, my orphaned thoughts 
Stand knocking, seeming all in vain, 

Oh ! when shall they, by patience taught, 
Return, rejoicing, back again ? 

Thus droops my heart beneath the night 
That fills this dark and fearful hour. 

That comes, like falling snow, to blight 
Each warm, soft petal of the flower. 

And yet I kno^\^each cloud doth seek 

A blessing for the thirsty land — 
The olive-branch, ^'en while I speak. 

Doth bud and blossom in my hand. 



1S50. 



A TRIBUTE 

TO THE MEMORY OF MY FRIEND SYDNEY SOUTH- 
WORTH, WHO DIED AT SEA, ON BOARD THE BRIG 
GULNARE, BOUND TO CALIFORNIA. 

^T^HOU now art home, where fairer lands 
-*• Now ope before thy w^ondering soul, 
Than those upon whose golden sands 

Thou here didst seek to find thy goal ; 
No more does Hope delusive sway 

A heart attuned to higher spheres. 
Thy soul now drinks th^ living ray 

That turns to gems thy falling tears. 



84 ^ TRIBUTE. 

Too pure wert thou for this dark scene, 

To live amid its strife and care, 
Yet deep within its living sheen 

Thou hadst a soul to do or dare. 
Allured by Art, by Beauty won, 

Transfigured by the Future's sky, 
A voice within did lead thee on 

To where thy soul's sweet landscapes lie. 

A thirst for Joy so strong hadst thou. 

Of Harmonies that never sleep, 
That when the storm-cloud made thee bow 

Thou hadst a soul too proud to weep ; 
And when the world would jostle thee, 

As though it had for thee no room. 
Thou still an Inner World couldst see 

That filled thy soul with sweet perfume ;- 

And thus with patience kept thy heart^- 

" The plant will flower in its time, 
Ne'er from the roots the blossoms start, 

All things in hfe must surely rhyme," 
Thy soul wouldst say, and drank the cup 

That sorrow lifted to thy lip. 
As brooklets drink the raindrops up, 

Or violets their dewdrops sip. 

And thus it seemed when on the Past 

Thine eye looked back to scan it o'er, 
" What good it had my soul now hast, 
So in its mines I'll delve no more." 



1850. 



MV SPIRIT BRIDE. ' 85 

His soul was ripe for that sweet land 
That long had met him in his prayer ; 

Where wrecks are none upon the strand, 
He finds his El Dorado there. 

Our hearts are hushed as now we go 

Where by his side the billows lave, 
And as all solemnly and slow 

They pillow him beneath the wave ; 
And yet in faith we look above 

And listen not old ocean's moans. 
But follow him on wings of Love 

Where Hope keeps time with rhyming tones. 



MY SPIRIT BRIDE. 

T TOW sweet to feel around our forms 
-^ -^ Love's pure white folded arms. 
Though viewless to the outward eye, 

Yet all may own her charms ! 
She fills the heart with gentleness. 

She makes our step more free, 
She makes the heart as musical 

As spring-birds on the tree. 

The earth grows brighter 'neath her feet, 
And blooms where'er she goes, 

Where once the barren desert was 
Now smiles the garden rose. 



S6 MV SPIRIT BRIDE. 

My angel one ! I see her now, 

She e'er attends my soul, 
Though stars in beauty shine o'er me, 

Or waves around me roll. 

I often in my pensive moods 

Sit musing of my Love, 
While twilight weaves her misty robes 

And stars look down above ; 
I often think her loving form 

And angel soul I see. 
While fancy builds a rainbow bridge 

That bears her feet to me.. 

I see her in my waking hours. 

In all the paths I've pressed. 
And often* feel her loving head 

Reclining on my breast ; 
Her eyes are beaming on me now, 

So beautiful and bright. 
Like dewy stars that sweetly glow 

And cheer the sky at night. 

I know she lives and waits for me. 

And folds me to her heart — 
That naught the spirit here unites 

The world can ever part. 
Perhaps she dwells 'mong angel groups ; 

E'en then I'd not repine : 
On golden wings the hours speed by 

That bear my soul to mine. 



TO IVACHUSETT. g; 

I do not feel alone on earth, 

For I can love her now, 
And gently fold her to my breast, 

And press her dewy brow ; 
And in my darksome hours she's near, 

Is very near, I know. 
And scatters blessings on my soul, 

" Like rosebuds on the snow." 



1846. 



TO WACHUSETT. 
(in winter.) 

THERE'S snow upon thy breast. 
Where blossoms used to be ; 
The birds have left their nest 
And ceased their melody ; 
Thy woods by wind are 'reft 

Of every bud and leaf, 
And thou alone art left 
To muse upon thy grief ! 

No maidens come with flowers. 
No children in their glee, • 

To cheer thy drooping hours. 
And climb around thy knee ! 

Thy streams no music bring. 
But all is silent there, 



88 ROSALIE. 

Except the trees that fling 
Their naked arms in prayer. 

The snow's white winding-shroud 

Is at the wind's behest ; 
But to each angry cloud 

Thou bar'st thy manly breast ; 
For well Wachusett knows 

What hidden germs lie there, 
Beneath the mountain snows 

And 'neath his boughs so bare. 

What heeds Wachusett now 
The lightning or the rain ? 

The clouds that smite his brow 
And gather o'er the plain ? 

For well Wachusett knows 
A future day shall bring, 

In spite of wind and snows. 

The blooming days of spring ! 
1845. 



ROSALIE. 

T REMEMBER, I remember 
-*- The house adown the hill, 
Near which in beauty flowed along 

A sweet, meandering rill ; 
And oft in thought a pilgrim go, 

Where still the cot is seen, 
With little fences painted white 

And shutters painted green ! 



ROSALIE. 89 

How oft when weary with my walk 

And resting 'neath the shade, 
I've watched the sylph-Hke form of her — 

My simple, rural maid, 
And seen her gliding 'mong the flowers 

With step so light and free ; 
Oh ! I was very dear to her, 

And she was dear to me ! 

I remember, I remember, 

The rosy-tinted hours 
We passed in sweetness, locked in twain, 

And told our love in flowers. 
No brighter spot was there on earth. 

The world we both forgot. 
For there was world enough for us 

Within our little cot ! 



But joy like music has a pause, 

And so it proved with me, 
For when my cup of bliss was full, 

She died — my Rosalie ! 
I know she reached the blissful shores. 

Although concealed from sight, 
For when she passed their golden gates. 

The stars increased their light ! 

I remember, I remember, 

Through weary months and years, 
The love that hallowed all my hours 

And crystallized in tears ; 



90 



Ml/SIXGS. 



But when on those meek orbs I gaze, 
New founts of feeling start, 

Till .fresh and sweet as years gone by 
That love still warms my heart. 



1850. 



MUSINGS. 

THE stars, how silent and how swift 
They sail along the sky 
And shed the splendor of their rays 

On every lifted eye ! 
The litde birds, how sweet they pour 

Their strains upon the ear, 
And in the songs they warble forth 
No jarring note w^e hear. 

The brooks, how free and clear the voice 

That murmurs as they flow, 
Waking rich strains of melody 

Wherever they may go ; 
And see the flowers, the type of all 

The Beautiful and True, 
Hold up their tiny cups, and lo ! 

The skies fill them with dew. 

While all around, in field or grove, 
We hear the voices sweet, 



MUSINGS. 91 



Now whispering gently in the air 

Or gliding at our feet ; 
In every nook, in every vale, ^ 

Doth melody arise, 
While Beauty sits queen-like o'er all, 

In earth, in air and skies. 



Then why are we so worn with care. 

While stars and fields and flowers. 
With Light and Beauty overflow 

And fill the rosy hours ? 
Why should the brook, that liquid smile 

On nature's sunny cheek. 
Be happier far than you and I ? 

O brothers ! let us seek. 



All hail ! the light is at the dawn, 

And bathes a drooping world, 
Oppression's rod is broken now. 

And with the tyrant hurled ; 
And from their dismal thrones are swept 

Old Discord, Grief, and Sin, 
And from the rents that line their walls 

The light is streaming in ! 



The New Jerusalem is near ! 

Behold the Good and True, 
With busy hand now piling up 

Each stone of pohshed hue : 



LINES. 



The pearly gates swing open wide 

Before a waiting earth, 
The joys we long have prophesied 



Are bursting into birth. 



The altar fires are burning now, 

And leap from hill to hill, 
And nations waking by the light 

Their destiny fulfill. 
All hail ! the star that leads us on, 

Whose music round us falls 
And hngers in the Master's vine 

That climbs the palace walls ! 



1849. 



LINES. 

TO WILLIAM HE\RY CHANNING. 

NOT spent 
That inner light that glows 
Within the heart, and throws 
Its torch far in the distant day, 
And tinges with its star-lit ray 
The Will, the Thought and Deed 
That will the nations lead 
To come. 



LINES. 

For He 

Who sends the dew and rain 

To drench each hill and plain, 
And rears the prophet flowers to teach 
The list'ning herb and grass, and preach 

With fragrant lips a life 

All free from Death and Strife, 
Still lives. 

And pours 
His spirit through the rills 
That Thought and Feeling fills. 
And breathes through Poet's voice and lyre, 
And glows within the prophet-fire 
That burns on human hearts. 
And Light and Joy imparts 
To all. 



Channing ! 
A prophet thou of Him 
Whose word now burns so -dim. 
And fades and glimmers on the soul ; 
Who hears the distant toll 
Of discord and of sin, 
Of wrong and error's din 
On earth. 



Welcome, 
Thou prophet, priest, and man ! 
No sect or party ban 



93 



94 



WILLIE TO HIS BIRD, 

Can chain the soul when once let free, 
Or hush the strains of melody 

That gush from lips like thine, 

Preaching the life divine 
To come. 



1849. 



WILLIE TO HIS BIRD. 

44 /^OME back ! I miss thee from thy nest, 
^^ My sweet, my bonnie bird ; 
Come back and nestle on my breast ! " 
These were the words I heard, 



As stood my Wilhe, with his eye 
Bent toward a stalwart tree. 

Where, filling all the fragrant sky, 
It poured its melody. 

" Come back, my little bonnie bird, 
Why now from WilHe stray ?" 
Was still the pleading voice I heard ; 
" Have I not, every day, 

" Brought leaves, and food, and water too 
To fill thy little well ? 



WILLIE TO HIS BIRD, 95 

And plucked thee berries when they grew 
In meadow, wood, and dell ? 



" And sat long hours and chirped with thee 
In answer to thy song ? 
Why then so high upon that tree 
Wilt thou now stay so long ?" 



All vainly there did Willie seek 

His Httle bonnie bird, 
Till trickling tears stole down his cheek, 

And quenched the words I heard. 



But Willie since has wiser grown ; — 

He keeps no cages now. 
And loves far more, he'll fondly own, 

The bird upon the bough. 

And when the Spring's glad voice we hear, 

And fills our joyous breasts. 
And birds with sojigs the gardens cheer — 

Begin to build their nests ; 



He loves to watch them skip along 

Upon the daisied lawn, 
And pouring forth their grateful song 

To cheer the dewy morn. 



g6 THE BUTTERCUP. 

Thus childhood's grief some moment •, fills, 

Though trifles bid its tears to start 

And oft are manhood's pains and ills 

But birds that leave the heart ! 
1849. 



THE BUTTERCUP. 

/^ F all the buds that bloom on earth 
^-^ And toward the clouds look up, 
Few have more charms, or richer lore 
Than thou, sweet buttercup. 

How oft in Summer's sultry hours, 
When parched was every leaf, 

I've seen this flower as seeming moist 
As hearts that know no grief. 

As bright and golden with the dew, 

Erect upon its stem. 
As though the clouds had just in showers 

Adorned it with a gem. 

And then beside that dusty way 

I've mused on human life. 
And thought of those who steadfast stand 

Amid each scene of strife ; — 



LOVE AND WEDLOCK. 97 

Whose prophet-hearts, like this loved flower, 

Disdained the tear and sigh, 
But ever in whose fragrant thoughts 
Revealed their hidd£n sky. 
1852. 



LOVE AND WEDLOCK. 

" Marriage — the gate through which the happy lover leaves his en- 
chanted regions and returns to earth." 

OH ! what is Love ? The angel hand that opes the 
gate 
That leads the soul to heaven, where each with joy elate 
On verdant banks inhales the fresh and dewy morn ; 
Where joys immortal bloom — in mortal hearts are 

born ! 
Beneath the earth recedes, while heavenly hills arise. 
Whose crimsoned peaks that pierce the light, and kin- 
dling skies, 
Invite the happy pairs 'neath bending branch and tree, 
With voice of flute and all their charms of witchery. 
In converse swxet the golden hours speed on, as fleet 
As summer trips o'er hill and vale on viewless feet. 

Wedlock ! The gate through which the soul returns to 

earth, 
With thoughts of life to which kind Heaven alone gives 

birth ; 
Beneath its genial sway the lovers' hearts expand 
To loving care for altar, home, and fatherland. 



98 ^fy VALENTINE. 

The eye retains its vision of the passing hours, 

Our robes the lasting fragrance of the balmy flowers ; 

While wife and meek-eyed children gather peaceful 

round 
Where pleasant toil and home-born joys secure are 

found. 
O Love ! upon thy viewless wings I would arise, 
Yet from thy blissful flight return to earthly skies ! 
1859. 



MY VALENTINE. 

T'VE been hunting, I've been hunting, 
-■- With Cupid by my side ; 
Not in meadowy, not in wildwood. 

Not by the flowing tide. 
IVe been hunting, I've been hunting, 

Amid the sweetest flowers, 
That waft their beauty to the heart, 

When love perfumes the hours. 

My arrow now is on its way. 

It knows its mark right well ! 
My Cupid too away has fled 

To bind or break the spell. 
I have no bow, no arrow left. 

And, shall I tell you true ? 
I would my Cupid might return 

And bring a heart from you. 

x8S9. 



THE GOLD DIGGERS. 



A SONG. 

THE heart that lives alone shall die, 
Its narrow cell its scope ! 
Though friendly hearts may still be nigh 

And lips to whisper hope. 
Like some frail flower that blooms afar 

Upon the burning sand, 
That knows no dew nor passing shower 
That falls to bless the land. 



Then let us live for friends so dear, 

For some fond heart and true, 
And share the blessings sent us here. 

As blossoms share their dew ; 
And let each lad a lassie take. 

And let each heart expand. 
As now we pledge for love's sweet sake, 

Each willing heart and hand ! 
1859. 



99 



THE GOLD DIGGERS. 

'T^HE sun is up, the crimsoned hills 

•*• Throw back his golden beams. 
And vale and dell drink in his rays ; 
And through the woods the streams, 

L.ofC. 



03 THE GOLD DIGGERS. 

Scarce waked from sleep, to all around 

Reflect each cheerful ray, 
As now from sleep we ope our eyes 

And greet the new-born day. 

No slumbering eyes shall greet the skies 

As from our tents we go ; 
With pick and spade we seek the spot 

Our trusty feet wxll know : 
Beneath the wave the gold we see 

The sand has treasured there. 
And which the earth in rocks and veins 

Has long concealed with care. 

Then speed the spade and speed the wheel ! 

The dross we give the tide, 
As from above, by love's pure streams, 

The heart is purified ; 
And cheerfully each day we'll spend. 

For thus the tale is told. 
That every minute as it flies 

Pours out its grains of gold ! 

Then speed the spade and speed the tide, 

And let the wheel go round ! 
The noise of toil and Nature's voice 

Have e'er a pleasing sound ; 
And though the sea and hills and plains 

Conceal our homes from view, 
The gold we dig shall spread the board 

And buy the cottage too ! 



TO WACHUSETT. lOl 

And bosoms pure as lilies are 

The precious ore shall wear, 
When art by cunning hand shall shape 

The cross they meekly bear ; 
And eagles swift with golden wings 

Shall fly across the land, 
And give to honest toil its meed, 

And free the toiling hand. 
1854. 



TO WACHUSETT. 

THOU monumental pile of days gone by, 
When not a hamlet stood 
To grace primeval wood. 
Where naught was heard except the battle-cry 
Of tempest and the breeze. 
Or voices from the trees, 
Upswelling their great anthem to the sky. 



Long, long thou stood'st upon thy granite base 

Overlooking to the sea. 

With vision clear and free, 
Watching the billows foaming into lace. 

Drinking the music deep. 

That from his bosom leap. 
Arid rising, one harmonious sound embrace. 



102 TO WACHUSETT. 

The eagle came and sheltered on thy breast, 

And found a beauteous home 

O'er which to freely roam, 
And from his flight a safe retreat and rest ; 

And there didst find his young. 

Who to thy bosom clung, 
And gemmed with dew their storm-defying nest 

The years unmarked by human footsteps sped, 
But thou in greatness stood, 
King of the sky and wood. 

Thy beauteous life in perfect freedom led : 
The flowers thy bosom sought. 
The streams their tribute brought. 

And stars came clust'ring round thy head. 
<«• 

At length the red man's traihng feet were heard 

Amid thy forests drear, 

The home of fleeting deer — 
Thy pearly streams his swift canoe has stirred, 

As on he sped his way. 

In battle fierce array, 
Or as he sought the forest's bounding herd. 

Thou too hast lived to see the white man come, 

A weak and feeble band. 

Who fled from error's land, 
And sought by thee for freedom's hosts a home ; 

Hast seen the red man fly 

Beyond the white man's cry. 
In distant lands the forests still to roam. 



LINES. 



103 



1843. 



And yet thou art the same through changing 
years — 

'Mid labor and unrest ; 

The clouds upon thy breast 
Like children come and tell their tale in tears. 

In sweet tranquillity 

Thou livest still to see 

The Age of Harmony, 
To crown our many bleeding hopes and fears. 



LINES. 

'TpHOU lovely spot, what visions rise, 

■*- And come at thy behest ? 
Thou little flower Wachusett wears 
Upon his mountain breast. 

Each fragrant path that winds thy hills, 

Each pleasant grove I see ; 
Each scented field and pearly rill, 

Each well-remembered tree ; 

My little cot that nestled there, 

Behind its verdant screen — 
Its little fences painted white. 

And shutters painted green ! 



104 



THE BIRD'S NEST. 



1849. 



The church that on the hill is set, 
Whose aisles my footsteps knew ; 

The hp, the heart, that strove to speak 
The Beautiful and True ; 



Each joy I nursed within my heart, 
That like a blossom grew ; 

Each tear that in my weakness came, 
I well remember too. 



'Twas there I saw the Future dawn, 
• The Past roll up her scroll, 
Until thy name became to me 
The Patmos of my soul. 

O lovely spot ! what visions rise. 
And come at thy behest ? 

Thou little flower Wachusett wears 
Upon his mountain breast ! 



THE BIRD'S NEST. 

TJ ETURNING from the woods, I found 
-■-^ An empty nest, one day, 
Which gently from the ground I took, 
And bore it home away. 



THE BIRD'S NEST. lo; 

I thought of days the merry birds 

Had spent to build their nest : 
And many were the thoughts it brought, 

I treasured in my breast. 

I asked myself, What made their hearts 

So very light and gay ? 
What made their souls so full of song, 

The livelong summer day ? 

From morn till night, while many toil 

With drooping, downcast look. 
They gayly sing their joyous strain 

Within their leafy nook. 

" How long, how long, O Lord !" the sons 
Of labor vainly cry. 
While joyfully they chant and swing 
Their nestlets in the sky. 

Oh ! wherefore must we toil and pine. 

And make our lives so drear. 
While birds are happy all the day, 

With hearts so full of cheer ? 

I thought if we were like the birds. 

Our world from discord free, 
That we might make this life of ours 

One gush of melody. 
1 85 1. 



106 BE PATIENT. 



A RAINY NIGHT. 



1852. 



Q O long as earth o'erflows with rills, 
^ And passing clouds descend in showers, 
We'll praise the drops Thy love distills, 
For grateful man and beast and flowers. 

Guard us our Father, guard to-night 
When sleep shall close our weary eyes ; 

And when we greet the morrow's light. 
Refreshed by slumber may we rise. 



BE PATIENT. 

'TpHE harvest days must come at length- 
-■^ The harvest days of toil, 
When willing hands and joyful hearts 

Shall reap the teeming soil. 
The rose must have its time to bud. 

The spring its time to bloom. 
Then for this sure and trusting faith 

Our waiting hearts, make room. 

All things to come await their time — 

The plant its time to flower, 
The grass to grow, the tree to bud, 

The clouds their time to shower. 



LINES. 



107 



Then bide thy time, O man of toil ! 

And e'er this lesson heed : 
The harvest days shall come as sure 

As flowers produce their seed. 



1845. 



LINES 

TO MY LITTLE BROTHERS. 

TT7HEN tired of books and ball, 
^ ^ Of stilts, jack-stones, and all 
That serve to while away 
Your time in cheerful play, 
Oh ! then remember me ! 

When at your daily fare 
And next your father's chair 
You find a vacant place 
And miss a brother's face. 
Oh ! then remember me ! 



When softly on the ear 
The Sabbath bells you hear. 
And miss a brother's hand 
Among your little band, 

Oh ! then remember me ! 



108 GOOD NIGHT. 

Amidst your childish glee 

Oh ! will ye think of me ? 

* For if we love at heart, 

We need not live apart. 

Oh ! then remember me ! 
1840. 



GOOD NIGHT.. 

'T^HE day is done, and shadows creep 

-■' Along the silent sky ; 
While beauty decks her starry brow, 
And kindles in her eye. 

The village lights are few and dim 
That lit each cheerful home. 

And from the tower the chime proclaims 
The hour of rest has come. 

The stilly night is now abroad, 

And not a sound is heard. 
Except the rustling of the leaves 

Her gentle breath hath stirred. 

The air, how calm and peaceful now ! 

Nature has sunk to rest. 
And e'en the clouds with folded wings 

Are slumbering on her breast. 



i8s2. 



BENEATH THE CLOUD. 

Good night — a sweet good night to all ! 

A languor o'er me grows, 
And silence broods o'er every scene, 

Inviting to repose. 



109 



BENEATH THE CLOUD. 

THIS world has much of sorrow. 
Each heart its share of grief ; 
But there'll be joy to-morrow, 
The longest night is brief 

Oh ! bless each passing hour. 
Speak not of life with scorn, 

For e'en the fairest flower 
Beneath a cloud is born. 



We should not be faint-hearted 
When trouble has its birth. 

The sun when clouds are parted 
With smiles bedecks the earth. 

To trial it is given 

To cleanse the soul from dross ; 
How oft the path to heaven 

Is darkened by the cross I 



X846. 



no MV BROTHER, 



ABOVE THE CLOUDS. 

T ET sorrows come : adieu to fear, 
■*-^ For storms will have their birth, 
And tears but beautify the heart 
As dew adorns the earth. 

Let clouds arise : is not the rain 

On mercy's errand bent ? 
And do not storms soon pass away 

When all their clouds are spent ? 

We can but fail : what if we fail 
And sink to death's repose ? 

The Christian can as sweetly die 
As fragrance leaves the rose. 

Then, pilgrim, give the winds thy grief, 

Let all thy fears be drowned ; 
Up toilsome hills, through lonely vales, 
The cross is often found. 
1846. 



MY BROTHER. 

'T^HE sod is on thy breast, 
^ Where thou hast found thy rest, 

And silent sleep. 
No storms can reach thee now 
No grief that stains the brow 

Can o'er thee creep. 



MY BROTHER. HI 

Thy soul, now freed from clay, 
Has winged its flight away 

Beyond our sight, 
Where angels wave the palm. 
Where thought itself is balm. 

And all is bright. 

For so it seems to me. 
The soul's great ministry 

All doubt has hurled ; 
The dewdrops only die. 
To bend their bow on high 

With gems impearled. 

And then again to earth, 
Where sorrow has its birth. 

In gentle showers 
They all descend to bless, 
In sweetest tenderness. 

The dewy flowers. 

E'en so to us oh ! come 
From thy sweet starry home 

On wings of light ; 
For sorrows o'er the soul 
Like billows o'er us roll 

And dim our sight. 

" We can not make thee dead,' 
Though violets deck the bed 

Where thou art lain ; 



112 THE SEARCH, 



1848. 



O spirit of the flowers ! 
Who meekly bend in showers 

And bless the ra^n, 
Come to these hearts of ours 

And soothe our pain, 



THE SEARCH. 

npHERE is a httle flower, ^ 

That all the maidens know, 
Who tread this tangled bower, 
Where all its tendrils grow. 

Now in its search we start, 
And tread this shady walk ; 

Ah ! each will lose his heart. 
Who with these maidens talk ! 

Here children in their play, 

In gleeful spirits meet. 
And spend the hve-long day. 

Its blossoms at their feet. 

Here robins chirp and sing. 
And from their branches start ; 

While fairy voices fling 

Enchantment round the heart. 



ART AND TOIL. II3 

A branch I seek for you, 

To bind around your brow ; 
Lo here it graceful grew — 

Upsprings to greet us now ! 

For it you ask a name. 

Ah ! then my story's told ; 
The heart you can not blame, 

That can a secret hold ! 



1859. 



ART AND TOIL. 

T TOW beautiful the earth, how fair the skies 

-■- "■- Where loved by gods Olympian mountains rise ! 

Then Vulcan forged and Neptune led his train, 

Minerva taught and shrined each hill and plain ; 

Agricola 'mid cultured slopes and fields 

Inhaled the odors that the harvest yields ; 

Apollo, too, would join the pleasing throng. 

And cheer the moments with his harp and song ; 

Then Art was loved and ever}^ marbled shrine 

Proclaimed that Toil was noble and divine. 

Methought this voice I heard when on the bay 

I gazed upon the ships that peaceful lay, 

And heard the voices of the splashing wheel 

And parting waters 'neath the shining keel : 

And on the wharves and streets whose buildings rise, 

The loaded garners of the world's supplies. 



114 ^^^ ^-^'^ TOIL. 

And thought how honest Toil and manly Art 

Should now in holy bonds unite the heart ; 

United who shall tell their mighty deeds ? 

Bold Vulcan thou and Neptune with thy steeds ? 

What one performs the other joys to tell, 

Like voice and echo in the leafy dell : 

When one, they sweetly blend hke heat and light, 

And joyous visions rise before our sight. 



See dark-browed Egypt with her sweeping Nile, 

Her costly monuments, the stately pile 

Where Memnon sweetly greets the risin^ay, 

With music kindled by its opening ray ; 

Where lofty Sphinxes mutely gaze and stand 

Half buried 'neath the desert's shiftino- sand : 

See Venice too, once mistress of the sea, 

The princely cargo of each argosy ; 

See Rome and Greece, the honored home of Art, 

How dear their walks to every pilgrim heart ! 

Where grace and learning to perfection grew. 

And philosophy shed its healing dew ; 

Where Plato taught and Socrates abode. 

In humble robes to highest glory rode. 

To Art and Toil did all their homage pay, 

That built their shrines and paved the Appian Way. 

Now cast your eyes to meadow, bush, and tree, 
In humble fields Agricola we see. 
And gardens rich with perfume scent the air. 
And ripening fruits the budding branches bear. 



ART AND TOIL. 



115 



In marbled paths the lovely maidens walked, 
And 'neath the friendly shade in quiet talked. 
There bloomed the lily and the Syrian rose, 
The clustered grapes that red-faced Bacchus grows ; 
The waving corn through which the Master walked, 
The HHes fair of which he sweetly talked. 
Their beauty and their grace his discourse made 
Fairer than marble art or templed shade. 

Let years pass by with all their mighty deeds ; 

The ages past with all their struggling needs. 

Behold Grtumbus trims his winged sail. 

And ocean kindly yields an opening trail. 

Through which in triumph now he swiftly glides, 

And on the viewless track to glory rides. 

The friendly birds from landward take their flight, 

In graceful curves they move before his sight, 

And now they hover o'er the virgin soil. 

The final triumph of his patient toil. 

The cross he rears beneath the bending sky. 

And Roman eagles to our standard fly. 

What though from templed shrines the gods have 

flown ? 
And altars crumble to the gods unknown ? 
The Christian spire invites the pilgrim's eye, 
And points in beauty to his homeward sky. 

See now Columbia in her pomp and pride, 
The princess of the nations and their bride ! 
Her ships now whiten every bay and sea. 
And 'neath her flag behold the noble free. 



I 16 ART AND TOIL. 

Here Art and Toil their work begin anew, 
With better promise than the ancients knew. 
No chivalry that once the past did own, 
E'er bore its standard to the icy zone 
Where Kane his taper Ht with match and steel. 
Where circHng zones no more their motion feel. 
No bounding steed that e'er Arabia knew, 
So sure and swift o'er hill and valley flew, 
As now our winged words by lightning go 
In messages of love both to and fro; 
While all proclaim beneath these western skies, 
Here Art and Toil in nobler forms shall rise ; 
With none to fear, the future all to hope, 
The boundless universe their ample scope. 
Thus linked in twain, my country who shall trace 
The dawning future of our onward race ? 
Earth buds anew, new flowers upspring to sight, 
Orion brightens 'neath the kindling light ; 
And Lyra's harp that sparkles o'er the land, 
New music wakes among the starry band ; 
New stars now come and kindle in the sight, 
And nations move beneath th' increasing light. 

Within the heart upon its virgin soil 
Now build a shrine for noble Art and Toil ; 
There nurse the arts that grace the teeming earth, 
And manly toil that gave the arts their birth ; 
The pen exalt and with the soldier's blade 
Unite the plow, the anchor, and the spade. 
1858. 



THE INNER LIFE. II7 



THE INNER LIFE. 

THE outward world that round us lies 
Is not the world in which we dwell ; 
The inner world alone is real — 
The world we neither buy nor sell. 
Pm master of all outward things, 
Within my soul I take my seat, 
And Nature comes in perfumed robes 
And lays her treasures at my feet. 
AU things I have within myself, 
Suns set and suns within me rise ; 
I live within bright palace walls 
Arched o'er by lovely jeweled skies. 
I come and go, a wandering bee 
That roams each flowery scented field, 
And treasure up the golden fruit 
My daily thoughts and pastimes yield. 

I look at things not as they seem. 
In all I see the Father's face : 
All nature is a part of Him, 
The bending sky is his embrace ; 
His breath embalms the dewy flowers, 
He makes the sun his triumph car ; 
His voice I hear in- every breeze. 
His smile I see in every star. 
He builds his altar everywhere, 
On every heart his dews distill, 
His heaven is with the pure in heart, 
Its temple -gates the human will. 



1 1 8 HYMN, 

I love to turn from beaten paths 
Where trade and politics deceive, 
And fondly roam each wood and glen, 
And feel my breast with rapture heave. 
The world wants not that which I have, 
But still I love the inner life, 
And naught can tempt my heart away 
To mingle with its scenes of strife ; 
For deep within I have a mine 
More rich than gold that veins the earth. 
And deep within are loving thoughts 
That give to joy and trust their birth. 
That inner world, oh ! be it mine, 
And mine to tread each sacred hall. 
To enter in its silent courts 

And know the perfect Soul of All. 

1842. 



HYMN. 

TTOW good is God ! I see his loving smile 
-*•-•• In every drop of morning dew ; 
And though he crowns each day with gifts, 
His gifts are still forever new. 

The sun shines clear as first it rose 

From dreamy chaos into birth ; 
The rainbow is as beautiful 

As first it spanned the waiting earth. 



TEMPERANCE HYMN. 

What shall await our future days, 

He now withholds from our weak sight ; 

The book of fate is kindly closed, 

His ways, though dark, are always right. 

The sweetest hours by far in life 

Are those that lie between each pain, 

Like sunbeams streaming from the sky 
Between two drops of falHng rain. 

Oh ! then, away with all distrust ! 

God's gifts are always fresh and new. 
The hand that led us through the past 
Will lead us all our journey through. 
1851. 



119 



TEMPERANCE HYMN, 

Tune — A me7'ica. 

NOW, children, let us all 
On God our Father call, 
His blessing seek ; 
The ocean in his hand, 
Rivers a smiling band, 
And rills that gem the land, 
His goodness speak. 



120 BAPTISMAL HYMN. 

While time shall onward roll, 
We'll join with heart and soul, 

And water praise ; 
We love the dripping wxU, 
Our lips its joys shall swell, 
Its peaceful triumphs tell 

In tuneful lays. 

Health here its temples rears, 
Pleasure the moments cheers, 

And warms our hearts ; 
Each eye with hope is bright, 
The future lends its light, 
Religion cheers the sight 

Its wealth imparts. 

Again we raise our voice. 

In one glad strain rejoice. 

The earth shall sweep ! 

United now we stand, 

A true and happy band. 

Resolved to free our land, 

Our pledge to keep. 
1855. 



BAPTISMAL HYMN. 

OEE the happy angels, 
^ Sweetly robed they stand, 
Looking down in fondness, 
On this youthful band. 



1858. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMN. 121 

See the dew-drops falling 

On each sinless brow, 
Parents softly lisping 

Their baptismal vow. 

Lord, each child we offer, 

Pure without a stain ; 
Each loved child then naming, 

Falls the holy rain. 

See their angels list'ning, 

Lay their harps away ; 
Round thy throne now kneeling, 

Silently we pray. 

Keep their hearts now guileless, 

Free from sin and strife ; 
Write their names in heaven. 

In the Book of Life. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMN. 
Tune — All the week we spend. 

NOW the Sabbath day 
Calls us to our school. 
There to sing and pray, 

The sight how beautiful ! 
And it is a faithful rule 
Never to be late at school ! 



122 HYMNS, 



1855. 



Now my books I take, 

'Tis my constant care, 
Ne'er the rule to break ; 

Faithfully prepare 
All the lessons of my school ; 
Blest are we who keep the rule ! 

Now in school are we, 

All our teachers too ; 
Pleased are we to see 

Such kind friends and true ; 
And it is our constant rule 
To be still in Sunday-school ! 

Now in prayer we rise, 

Our humble tributes bring, 

Trav'ling to the skies. 
Let us pray and sing ; 

When we all obey each rule. 

Sweet, how sweet the Sunday-school ! 



HYMNS. 

Written for and sung at the funeral of Rev. William H, Kinsley, 
September 9th, 1S51. 

I. 

"XTTITH folded arms and solemn tread, 
^ ^ These temple-gates, O God ! we press. 
For one who has this people led. 
Has left his flock now shepherdless. 



HYMNS. 

From dust we came, to dust v/e go, 
The body frail in which we dwell ; 

But for the soul we never toll 

In measured stroke the village bell. 

The path is dark to mortal sight 
That guides the spirit on its way, 

But who can see the vapors rise 

That viewless pierce the molten ray ? 

All space is thine, all time to thee 
In true and sweet obedience roll ; 

Then unto thee, in whom is lost 

All space and time, we leave the soul. 

We walk by faith and not by sight. 
Thy boundless love is all our stay, 

In that we trust — the more we trust, 
The darker seems our pilgrim v/ay. 



II. 



Oh ! who can tell what glories now 
Attend our brother on his way. 

Or how embalming on his brow 
The winged hours now pass away ? 

For little know the roots that lie 
Beneath the sod so oiiill and bare, 

Of all the sweets that fill the sky, 

The rip'ning fruit their branches bear. 



\2X 



124 HYMN. 

But leaves are real, and life is more ; 

The leaf, the fruit, exist for all ! 
And Faith is echo from the shore, 

When on that Land our spirits call. 

And as the winds that kiss the flowers 
Unto their roots their thoughts impart ; 

So every thought that fills their bowers 
Has here an echo in the heart. 



o 



HYMN. 



H ! not alone, when, like a bird 
Of dark and brooding wing. 



Or like an Autumn's faded flower 
That's ceased its blossoming, 

Would I, O Father ! think of Thee, 

And all Thy works review, 
The wisdom and the love divine 

That make Thy gifts so new. 

rd think of Thee, when joy's pure spring 

In countless stfeamlets start. 
And while my hopes are flowering 

And ripen on my heart. 



HYMN. 



125 



X850. 



For Thou art Good, the Central Life, 

The Soul of all we see — 
The Sun, the Germ, the Infinite ; 

Whom should we serve but Thee ? 



The Universe is but Thy Thought, 
That runs through every age, 

All Science must begin with Thee, 
The Saint alone is Sage. 

Thou art the Fount, Thy Laws the rills 
Through which Thy blessings flow ; 

And they alone who do Thy will. 
Thy benediction know. 

Who then shall have their thirst assuaged, 

And be from bondage free ? 
O Father ! may we know in truth. 

The Pure in Heart see Thee. 



HYMN. 

r^ THOU Most High, who canst uphft 
^^ Each heart to Thee above. 
Anoint our souls with sacred fire, 
Our hps with holy love. 



126 HYMN. 

Our Father, ever hallowed name, 
In thought, in will and deed. 

On whom we lean, nor fear our stay, 
If Thy commands we heed. 



Thy kingdom come in all the earth, 
To all our waiting eyes ; 

If we Thy will will always do 
'Twill come in sweet surprise. 



Give us each day our daily bread 

Our bodies to renew. 
And for our souls that to thee look 

Pour out Thy blessing too. 



Forgive the wrongs that we have done, 

Reveal again Thy face. 
As other's wrongs must we forgive 

And lose in Thy embrace. 

k844. 



HYMN. 

r\ THOU, the Life, the Light, the Tl-uth, 
^^ Whose law is ^vrit in love. 
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, 
On earth as 'tis abovis. 



HAPPY NEIV YEAR. 



127 



Thy kingdom come ! Oh ! come in thought 

To these poor hearts of ours, 
Till all is fair and sweet within 

As cells within the flowers. 

Thy kingdom come ! Oh ! come in will 

That purposes the life ; 
The truth to seek, the good to win, 

Where now are sin and strife. 

Thy kingdom come ! Oh ! come in deed. 

And banish all our woes ; 
Until within each heart shall thrive 

The lily and the rose. 



1846. 



HAPPY NEW YEAR. 

^^T^IS midnight now. The city's streets, how still ! 

^ The moon's pale light is glimmering o'er the hill. 
And walks in beauty in the path it knows. 
And all is wrapt in lovely, sweet repose, 
Except the lonely watcher of the room 
Whose cheerful taper lights the friendly gloom ; 
Or those who hke their Master lingering stay 
On Olivet, the holy mount, to pray. 
The stars' sweet rays now cheer the drooping heart, 
As one by one the dwellers' lights depart. 
And seem like beacon-fires that meekly glow. 
To watch the peaceful world that sleeps below. 



• 



128 HAPPY NEIV YEAR. 

The clock strikes twelve — the Old Year now is dead ! 

Its sands are gone, its waning days have fled. 

All silent as the evening ray it went, 

And like an arrow when its force was spent. 

Old Time the record takes and seals each page, 

To hand it down from comin^r a^e to aee. 



St. Mary's dial see, the hands discern ; 
They pass the figures, and can ne'er return ! 
The book is closed, the story now is told. 
And e'en an angel's hand wdth pen of gold 
The vain and fooHsh task would soon resiirn, 
A word to change, or e'en a shadowy hne. 
The book is sealed, and on each fadeless leaf 
Is traced each joy, each passing sin and grief; 
By our own lives the written words we state. 
As images upon the burnished plate, 
Which, placed beneath the searching, burning rays. 
In truth the living likeness there displays. 
And all is there ; no thought has pierced the sky 
But passed beneath the Father's watchful eye ; 
Each tempting thought that sent the arrows deep 
Within the inmost soul. He bade to sleep ; 
Each sin He w^itnessed, and each sorrowing hour ; 
Naught hides from Him, or thwarts His sovereign 
power. 



The tale is told, the morning stars appear ; 
Regrets are vain, and vain each falling tear. 
Now by the Past the Future let us scan, 
And build our hopes upon a better plan. 



HA PP V NE \V YEA R. 1 2 9 

If through the year our minds aspired above, 

Still let us keep the path of life and love ; 

If some loved friend with whom we w^alked in twain 

Has left our side, let not a heart complain. 

In peace now part, God speed him on his way ! 

'Tis ours the hill to climb while yet 'tis day. 

If some sweet friend whose hand was clasped in ours, 

Whose words like flowers embalmed the passing hours, 

Now sleeps in death — is lost for aye from sight ; 

So Christ passed on and left an arch of light ! 

If art and toil unite the sea and land, 

The Future, too, awaits our moulding hand ; 

And though the Past in sorrow we have trod, 

Hope rears her column on the dewy sod. 



That Future beams upon the prophet's eye. 

Behold its signs upon the dawning sky ! 

The weary world awaits the coming sage 

Whose living words shall rouse the slumbering age ; 

The poet's words new harmonies to trace 

And breathe in rhythmic cadence to the race ; 

The painter, too, whose pictured thoughts shall glow 

With all the loveliness the heart may know ; 

The sculptor's hand, from stone so hard and real 

In marble forms to shape the soul's ideal 

Of love and grace ; the statesman, too, to find 

Of noble thought and world-expansive mind ; 

The prophet's voice, whose living truths shall burn 

Into all hearts, all idol thoughts o'erturn, 

And by the mystic ties of truth and love, 

Unite all hearts on earth to heaven above. 



1 30 HAPPY ly^E IV YEA R. 

The Present now is ours, and quickly flies, 
No time have we for useless tears and sighs ; 
For hours speed on, the changing seasons meet. 
And pour their ripening treasures at our feet. 
The fields that drink the falling dew and rain, 
Invite the seedsmen and the golden grain ; 
The ships that spread their sails for every land 
At anchor wait the willing feet and hand ; 
The merchant's office and the artist's room. 
The workman's shop, the busy press and loom. 
The mines whose hquid veins once ran with gold, 
And knowledge, too, of use and wealth untold—' 
Invite the toiling millions of the earth 
To purer joys than e'er the past gave birth. 



The morning dawns : Athwart the eastern sky 

A few faint streaks, like golden arrows, fly. 

The angel Sleep that brooded o'er the earth. 

That closed the flowers and gave to dreams' their birth, 

Now plumes her misty wings and soars away ; 

The rising sun assumes his royal sway. 

Mildly at first he sways his royal power 

And wakes to life the birdling and the flower ; 

Wisely he tempers both the heat and light, 

And thus unvails his splendors to the sight. 

Unnumbered voices greet the coming day. 

Ring out, ye bells ! In rhythmic accents say, 

A happy year to all ! Ring out the chime ' 

And spread the joy from distant clime to clime ! 

Ring out, ye bells ! from graceful spire and tower, 

And link your sweetness with the present hour ! 



HAPPY NEW YEAR. I3I 

This day, supreme, let joy and gladness reign, 

From hill to vale and distant plain to plain. 

To festive rites in friendship's holy name, 

Now yields each heart that feels the mystic flame. 

Within our homes see woman reigns to-day ; 

In crystal shrines the infant pleasures play ; 

And dull must be our sight if we deny 

Their happy home within her love-lit eye ! 

Lo, at her glance our wintry thoughts take flight, 

And summer comes to make the hours more bright. 

Like spring, her voice new powers awake to birth, 

And new-born joys upspring to cheer the earth ! 



The rites begin — ^behold the passing line ! 
Fill up the cup, but not with maddening wine. 
Though woman sips, and with her jeweled hand 
Extends the liquid from the vine-clad land. 
Within the sparkling beads the demons lie, 
And death upon the rising perfumes fly. 
Now fill the cup that holds the wine of life, 
Whose clustered grapes contain no seeds of strife ; 
Which warms the heart with joys that can not cloy, 
And lights our path with thoughts of coming joy. 



A happy year to all ! To you, my friend ! 
If o'er the poet's page you friendly bend. 
I know you not, and yet one God have we ; 
One Christ, to set our wilhng spirits free ; 
One country, too, the land we love so well, 
In whose' defense our fathers nobly fell ; 



13- HAPPY NEW YEAR. 

One State we own, the Golden State we love ; 

Eureka, floats upon her flag above ! • 

One blood have we that courses through our veins ; 

One path that leads us to the heavenly plains ; 

Our joys and sorrows one ; one hope to share, 

One heaven to win, one cross to meekly bear. 

O brother mine ! though o'er thy sunny France 

Where waving vineyards in the sunbeams dance, 

Or Luther's land, of noble deeds the home, 

Italia's vales— the honored seat of Rome, 

Or other lands of ruder vales and skies. 

Or England's shores, thy herald star did rise ; 

Yet here, upon these shores, we meet as one. 

And all one common purpose bravely own. 

That purpose, here, a noble State to rear. 

Whose mighty deeds shall all the nations cheer. 

That theme is mine, the future times to trace. 

To watch the star of empire in the race 

Of nations to the ever distant West, 

Whose fabled land inspires the poet's breast ! 

Lo ! o'er our heads the star that led the way, 

Now stops as erst where Judah's shepherds lay, 

And marks the spot to which the nations tend. 

And round whose homes the prophet's visions blend ! 

Thus, while with mirth the New- Year's birth we greet, 

And joyous friends around the board may meet, 

With fancy's wings the future we will roam, 

And joyful speak of Country, God, and Home ! 

The stars that sparkle in the azure night 

Run o'er with love and share their crystal light ; 



HAPPY NEW YEAR, 



133 



The flowers that bloom so meekly and so fair, 

Their sweetness blend and now their dew^-drops share ; 

E'en so, our hearts with love to all run o'er, 

To friends though near or on a distant shore. 

A happy year to all ! To you, my child ! 

With heart so meek and eyes so sweetly mild ; 

Whose soul now twinkling through your melting eyes, 

Reflects the beauty of its native skies. 

And happy maiden ! you, whose heart keeps time 

With angel's footsteps and the poet's rhyme ; 

The tendrils of wdiose heart in beauty twine 

Around some kindred heart that's w^orthy thine. 

And parent, too ! who strives through w^ant or wealth, 

By humble deeds to aid the commonwealth. 

A pattern man, a woman nobly born. 

Who love the truth and mere appearance scorn ; 

Whose household is their realm ; their throne, their rule ; 

Their home of pure and truthful deeds — a school. 

And, honest miner, too, in search for gold, 

Thy cheerful heart a mine of wealth untold ! 



A happy year to all ! Ring out the chime, 
And spread the joy from distant cHme to chme ! 
Ring out, ye bells ! from graceful spire and tower, 
And link your sweetness with the present hour! 
San Francisco, Cal., 1858. 



13+ 



THE BACHELOR, 



THE BACHELOR. 



A GENTLE maid I met one day, 
With heart so meek and eye so mild, 
That in her path I loved to stray, 
While others looked and archly smiled. 

Around her brow there shone a flame 
That made her like an angel seem. 

And when she spoke, sweet music came 
And floated by as in a dream; 

In Eden's bowers there bloomed no rose, 
No pink so sweet, no lily rare. 

That could in truth compare with those 
That blossomed on her bosom fair. 

That happy hour a star appeared. 
And held me in a pleasing trance ; 

And all my hfe its rays have cheered. 
And kindle still beneath my glance. 

How oft since then my eyes have wept, 
And griefs been moulded into tears : 

How many joys my heart have swept, 
And hopes been mingled with my fears. 

And though I knew 'twas but a dream, 
From which my soul awaked one day ; 

That star of clear and steady beam 
Still shines upon my pilgrim way. 



IMPROMPTU. 135 

And as it falls upon my heart 

As first in youth its rays I knew, 
New germs of thought in beauty start, 

Though I, in vain, its light pursue ! 

1859- 



IMPROMPTU— TO MY WIFE. 

T ONG years have passed since last I looked 
-■— ' Upon those sweet and tender eyes, 
That in my youth beguiled my heart 
And made more fair the love-] it skies. 

But time and change no changes bring 
To this fond heart that beats for thee ; 

For still of love m}- lips shall sing — 
Of sweetest love and constancy. 

I'll sing of thee : it was thy face 

That taught my youthful heart to love ; 

And e'en the bud that drinks the rain 
Returns it to its home above. 

Our youthful spring ! The air how sweet ! 

And filled with music like the lute ; 
I gave thee then the opening bud, 

I give thee now the ripening fruit. 



13^ ^'^y JVALIC. 

No land again with mountains high, 
No crested waves that lash the sea, 

Shall bring again the rising sigh, 
Or separate thy form from me. 

For we are one, as light and heat 
Unite to form the shining ray, 

And linked in twain their journey take 
From opening morn to closing day : 

And as the light each morn returns 
To gild more fair the new-born day. 

From star to star, from mount to vale. 
Thine eye beholds the self-same ray. 

So God hath bound us heart to heart, 
Hencefortli our paths together run ; 

No earthly power our souls can part. 
And Heaven will not, that made us one, 



i86i. 



MY WALK. 

/^NE day in pensive mood I walked 

^^ Beneath the willow shade, 
And with the silent shadows talked 

That with the waters played ; 
I mused on youth so quickly sped, 

Of leaves that bloomed to die, 
Of wintry days by summer led, 

Of joys that hurried by. 



MV IVALK. l^j 

O sweet surprise ! what see I now ? 

A form of angel mien, 
A wreath of HHes decks her brow 

Entwined with fadeless gieen. 
The smile upon her face disarms 

My anxious thought and fears ; 
While I, enchanted by her charms, 

Forget my falling tears. 

What is thy name ? Fair spirit, tell, 

Come, clasp thy hand in mine ; 
Where is thy home ? Where dost thou dwell ? 

Where is thy earthly shrine ? 
Oh ! tell me whence those rubies rare, 

That gem, that cros's of flame. 
That sparkles on thy bosom fair ? 

Pray tell me, then, thy name ! 

She, answering, speaks, with lips so true 

And voice so sweet and mild ; 
Upon my heart it falls hke dew. 

She claims me as her child ! 
No fears can now my heart intrude. 

No grief its peace inflame ; 
A friend is she in solitude. 

Religion is her name. 



1859. 



138 OUR DEPARTED HERO. 



OUR DEPARTED HERO. 

T T THAT grief is this that rides on every gale, 

^ ^ Uprising from the people's mangled heart ? 
The ocean's moans the passing deed bewail, 

The mountain eagles from their caverns start ; 
And rivers wide that sweep the mourning land, 

The hills and plains that echoed to his tread ; 
The mountains high, that rise a monarch band, 

All mourn a hero lost, a leader dead. 

% stricken land ! our grief is yours indeed ; 
For you we weep, for you our hearts shall bleed. 
'Tis well ye mourn, my brothers young and brave ; 
His cause was yours, for you his life he gave. 
'Tis well the voice of joy has ceased, while now 
We twine the fadeless chaplet for his brow. 
Yes, mourn, thou stricken land he loved so well — 
His deeds recite, his manly virtues tell. 
For he has gone, the bravest of us all. 
True at his post and prompt at duty's call. 
His soul was nobly formed to mount — to soar 
Where'er his country's cause her banner bore. 
Yes, mourn, let toil forget its task awhile. 
And childhood's cheeks refuse its wonted smile ; 
Within our homes no words of mirth pass round, 
The timbered hills forget the axe-man's sound, 
The merchant cease to count his usual gains, 
The traveler lone upon the distant plains ; 
All cease from toil and lay your tasks away, 
And to our hero dead our tribute pay. 



OUR DEPARTED HERO. 1 39 

He died, this brave, unconquered son of ours. 
Come, strew his bier with amaranthine flowers ; 
The friendly earth that once his body gave, 
Ope now thy bosom for a peaceful grave. 
Come, brothers all, our grievous loss bemoan, 
And in the nation's ear our sorrows own. 
Bemoan that death the soldier's hand has chilled, 
His manly heart in dreary silence stilled ; 
And that his voice, so trumpet-toned and clear. 
His eagle heart that never stooped to fear. 
No more shall tell from whence the kindling flame 
That warmed his soul, endeared to all his name. 



His body now we give its mother earth. 
His soul to God, because of heavenly birth. 
Pass on, loved spirit, o'er these clouds arise, 
And greet the glory of the morning skies ; 
While now before thy corpse so pale and chill. 
With tearful eyes we stand and hnger still. 
But not too long — his spirit leads the fight. 
And southward still our eagles take their flight. 
No time to waste, while now our co*untry bleeds, 
'Tis now the time for thought and manly deeds ; 
And while the war-clouds break upon the land. 
And one by one they fall — ^brave freedom's band ; 
By all the blood rebellion costs the slain. 
For every drop that stains the crimsoned plain, 
A thousand men upspring before our sight, 
And millions more respond, " God Speed the Right !" 
1861. 



1^0 NIGHT. 



NIGHT 



SWEET twilight hour has come — the time, how sweet ! 
The dewy night and waning day now meet 
And wander o'er the hills. The drooping flowers 
Fold up their leaves and bless these witching hours. 
The stars resume their sway, for lo, they come ! 
The scene how calm ! Naught but the insect's hum 
And gurgling voices from the neighboring rill 
Now break upon the air. The night, how still ! 

Come, Fanny, by my side, but speak not now. 
Come, lay thy hand in mine, while on thy brow 
These starht ra3's now rest, a halo bright. 
That flames around thy form — a heavenly light. 
With awe now gaze upon the starlit sky, 
As for its sweet repose we inly sigh. 

See yonder fields, where late the cattle trod, 
No feet now wander o'er the upturned sod ; 
In yonder meadow rests the new-mown hay ; 
Hushed is the flail arid hushed the robin's lay. 
No weary cattle seek this evening hour, 
No roaming bee now seeks the opening flower ; 
The cattle on the thousand hills repose — 
The roaming bee its friendly covert knows. 

All nature speaks that night was made for rest. 
The day is closed that all the hours had blest — 
That touched the hills when all the flowers awoke, 
That bathed tlie vales till all their voices spoke, 



NIGHT. Ijjl 

When from her nest the morning lark did soar, 
And Hght sprang forth from out its viewless shore. 
Now night, with dewy footsteps, round us creeps, 
While labor rests, and like a giant sleeps. 

Our thoughts, how busy now ! Oh ! bless the Hand 
That arched the sky and built yon starry land ; 
That lit the stars and traced the milky way ; 
That strung the harp the mystic*moonbeams play ; 
That built the dome above this rolling earth. 
And gave each soul its mysterious birth. 

Thy prayer now breathe, ere sleep shall close thy eyes ; 
Angels are near to bear it to the skies. 

O Father ! bless the child who bows to thee. 
From every sin now set my bosom free ; 
Each evil thought now banish from thy sight ; 
Ope wide thy gates, conduct me by thy light. 
Oh ! bless thy children scattered far and wide, 
Those on the land and on the rolling tide ; 
Remember those whose early choice is made, 
And those still longing for the healing shade. 
Where cooling waters quench the thirsting soul. 
And peace ajid plenty on their bosom roll. 

Remember those who long and weary roam. 
Seeking the path that guides the pilgrim home ; 
And those long crushed by tyranny and care. 
Who seek in gloomy cells the gates of prayer ; 



142 THE CHILD'S WAKING HYMN. 

And as the night doth waft its healing dew, 
Send comfort now, and sweet deUverance too ; 
And while by day I walk as in thy sight. 
Grant me in peace to bid the world " good night !'• 

This prayer she breathed ere slumber closed her eyes ; 
An angel near then bore it to the skies. 
i860. 



THE CHILD'S WAKING HYMN/ 

[From the French of Lamartine.] 

MY Father kind, whom we adore. 
On bended knees we lisp thy name ; 
Thy gifts my mother's heart inflame. 
On whom thy blessings I implore. 

They tell me that the sun so bright 
Is but thy play of light and heat ; 
Self-poised it swings beneath thy feet, 

A lamp of soft vermiUon light. 

The little birds of summer fields 
To thee alone do owe their birth ; 
And all the children of the earth 

Thou gav'st a soul that knowledge yields. 



THE CHILD S WAKING HYMN. 143 

They tell me that the flowers rare 

Are but the product of thy hand ; 

And but for thee, throughout the land 
The orchard trees no fruits would bear. 



The universe, thy banquet-hall, 

Is by thy glory fitted up ; 

And e'en the insect there may sup, 
It is thy bounty feedeth all. 

* 
The lambkin feeds on upland ledge, 

The skipping goat the wild grass crops ; 

The little fly sips the white drops 
That hang upon the vase's edge. 

The skylark leaves its sunny nest 
And seeks the gleaner by the brook ; 
The sparrows to the winnower look, 

And childhood seeks its mother's breast. 



And to obtain each sacred gift 

That day by day doth bring to light 
The morning hour, the evening — night, 

To thee our waiting hearts w^e lift. 



O God ! my stammering lips set free. 
To lisp thy name tliat angels fear ; 
But e'en a Httle child may hear 

And join the choir that praises thee. 



144 RESURGAM. 

Ah ! can He know so far away 

The secret thoughts that move my heart ; 
Then that his grace He may impart 

To me, to Him I'll daily pray. 

My God, who giv'st the fountain rain, 
And feathers to the sparrow's breast ; 
Who giv'st the sheep their wool, and blest 

With shade the roses of the plain, 

Restore the sick to health, we pray ; 

Give bread to those who weary roam ; 

Unto each orphan give a home, 
And to the captivx — freedom's day. 
1861. 



RESURGAM. 

I SHALL RISE AGAIN. 

THIS word we trace where'er we bend our eye, 
In silent groves, in yonder sunset sky ; 
In garden walks where once the lilies slept, 
Bathed in the dew-drops that the evening wept. 

The leafless tree that lifts its arms in prayer, 
The naked rose-bush, once the gardener's care, 
Shall hear the voice when spring shall come again, 
With melting: sunliorht and the genial rain. 



RESURGAM. 



H5 



The setting sun that bathed the earth with h'ght, 
And scattered far and wide the gloom of night, 
This word repeats, as with departing ray 
He leaves the scene and shuts the gates of day. 

The stars that lingered till the opening dawn, 
And graced the beauty of the dew^-eyed morn. 
This word repeat, as fading from the sky 
They lonely set before the watcher's eye. 

Beside the open tomb, the grave new made. 
Where mourners kneel beneath the willow shade, 
An angel stands, and to the passing train 
Proclaims these words : " They rise — all rise again !'* 

As spring succeeds the wintry days and snows. 
As from the budding stem the blossom grows, 
So near is heaven — so near the landscape lies. 
Though hidden now beneath these earthly skies. 
1861. 




AUG 14 1902 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




